


The Wilted Blooms, the Jilted Looms (And the Captain Shares His Room)

by Ebyru



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Movie Spoilers, Pon Farr, Post-Movie(s), Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones nearly dies on a mission he refuses to leave unfinished, and Khan is awoken one more time to save his life. Khan isn’t murderous and ruthless; he’s manipulative at worst – not that Spock lets him come anywhere near Bones. Spock’s possessive streak only gets worse when he goes into a Vulcan heat, and Kirk makes sure Khan stays preoccupied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burgeoning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [2014 Star Trek Big Bang](http://startrekbigbang.livejournal.com/)  
> I'd like to thank my betas: [memprime](http://memprime.tumblr.com/) and [skollandhati](http://skollandhati.tumblr.com/) for their hard work; and my lovely artist, [tprillahfiction](http://tprillahfiction.livejournal.com).  
> (The art post can be found [HERE](http://tprillahfiction.livejournal.com/162972.html).)
> 
> Any additional typos/mistakes are because of me, sorry!
> 
> *The idea came to me in a dream. Originally intended to be for the 2013 Spones Big Bang, but it was cancelled before I had a chance to finish and share it. Also, this is my FIRST ST story, please be gentle with me lol

 

 

Leonard listens closely as planet Paeonia’s healer warns him of the dangers. Between those two white trees with auburn leaves lies a sacred area that’s now been poisoned by chemicals of a pirate ship that landed a few weeks ago to rob them of resources. If he wants to cure the locals, he has to go into that area – and no suit or breathing apparatus is strong enough to defend against the toxins there. It has permeated the atmosphere almost inextricably, leaving little chance of escaping it. He may already be breathing it in, as he looks on at the man in a blue sarong with soft, brown eyes.

The Enterprise wasn’t sent here to heal; it was meant to be a discovery mission. They just found a lot more than they expected. It’s not like them to leave things alone once they know about it though.

“I will understand if you choose to leave,” he tells Leonard. Nearby, the accompanying staff are collecting samples of the soil and plants to see if it can help with finding a solution.

Leonard shakes his head. “Nah, can’t do that. I’m a doctor. If you hear from my captain, tell him I’m busy.”

Beyond the trees, everything is dying. The grass, the trees, the sky even looks harshened by the spill of the previous ship. Considering they were Starfleet affiliates, they were pretty damn careless. He’ll have to tell Jim about those bastards when he figures out how to save these people.

The leader tells him, “I believe if you breathe the air for no longer than two hours you will not experience any of these side effects.”

“Got it,” he says leaning down to touch a young child’s forehead. At least ten degrees above what it should be for their planet’s metabolism. “Let me know when it hits that mark.” He takes out his tricorder and gets down to business.

 

*

 

Two hours later - having watched four young boys and two elderly woman go into cardiac arrest, then seizures, their eyes white as sheets, to only die suddenly and with no one around prepared to bury them because of the fear they may still be contagious – Leonard can’t return to the ship and start working on an antidote yet. He needs to stay, whatever that entails.

“Your captain is asking for you, Dr. McCoy,” the elder tells him. “And it is going to be dangerous for you to continue if you stay any longer.”

“Tell him I’m busy,” grits Leonard, pushing his hair out his eyes. He’s starting to sweat. “Thanks for letting me know.” He puts a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “But I can’t leave these children and elderly like this.”

The spiritual man nods solemnly, bowing his head to Leonard. “You are a brave man.”

“I’m just doing my job,” says Leonard, sliding a new pair of gloves on.

The last pair got soiled when the boys started foaming from the mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees their people taking them away on makeshift stretchers of dead roots and tree branches. They don’t want to infect the hospital equipment with this illness, and so they carry them off to the side and set them on fire. The smoke is almost more disturbing than the entire situation. It’s thick and dark, but not black or red. It’s a deep green. Green like the blood spilled not five years ago by a vengeful man uncaring of a different planet’s survival. Leonard clears his throat when he feels his eyes start to itch. He’s going to save these people before it makes them an endangered species. The Enterprise will have to understand his decision. _Jim_ will have to understand.

 

*

 

After four hours, the blurred vision starts for Leonard. Among the white, ominous trees, kneeling to draw a patient’s blood sample, he nearly jabs himself in the arm. The spiritual leader touches his shoulder softly. The trees seem to weep blood behind him, threatening to swallow him up if he keeps pushing his body. He ignores them. It must be the hallucinations kicking in.

“Doctor,” says the leader. He takes out a cloth and dabs Leonard’s head. “You’ve contracted the illness.”

“I know,” growls Leonard. “But I have to keep going.” He blinks a few times rapidly, trying to get his focus back. “I need to figure something out – to save these kids, goddamnit.”

Nearly falling over, the leader touches his side and rights him. He doesn’t say to stop and rest or to give up. Instead, he sits next to Leonard, his legs crossed underneath his body. “How may I assist you?”

 

*

 

It’s six hours in, and Leonard still has no idea what he can do to save these children from dying like the rest have. Their family members: mothers, sisters, grandparents. So many of them have passed on while he’s been studying their blood, and ignoring the beeps coming from Jim back on the ship. He said he’d only be gone for a short while; now he’s probably worrying. The staff with him have moved further away, hands covering their faces in fear of contracting the illness too.

There not much time left for Leonard to figure this out.

The spiritual leader finally reveals his name. Previously, he’d admitted that outsiders weren’t pure enough to hear it. But now Leonard has apparently sacrificed enough that he’s worthy of it. “I am Cthelu. I will take you to the Path.”

Leonard coughs, coughs and coughs. He’s spent the last five minutes coughing, but this time blood lands in his palm. He hides it from the Starfleet staff behind him. “What path?” he groans, his vision swaying back and forth. His eyeballs are on fire.

“It is where we brought these children before their health deteriorated to this point. We believe our deity can choose to save a life there if it is important enough.” He helps Leonard stand, an arm around his shoulders.

“I – I don’t understand.” He holds his head, feeling himself lean into Cthelu. “Why the hell would I _go_ to there? Has anyone ever been healed by that Path?”

“Yes,” says Cthelu, “but only if they really believed.” He touches Leonard’s forehead with a frown. “You must make a choice: scientific or spiritual belief?”

Leonard has no idea how to cure this. Not a single idea. Nothing he has come up with has worked in the slightest, and he’s beyond dizzy now. He can barely see past his hand outstretched in front of him. But just giving up, going somewhere that belief is his only chance of survival, well, that’s not him. If only he could voice this; his tongue feels thick with blood. Cthelu is already leading him by the arm.

“I didn’t tell you my decision,” mumbles Leonard, going into another coughing fit. The grass under his feet makes him feel like he’s sinking. His knees wobble and Cthelu holds on to him tighter.

“You have, my friend,” he murmurs. “Let me show you peace.”

 

*

 

At some point they reach a golden bridge with the same two white trees that he saw earlier, dangling here just as ominously. Cthelu speaks in his language to a man guarding the bridge; he’s holding a spear with a jade tip. It blinds Leonard when it reflects the light of the sun into his eyes. He covers his face. The heat coming from him is like blue flames; he’s not going to survive this.

Cthelu helps him across the bridge, the guard having let them by. They walk for a few minutes, most of Leonard’s weight leaning heavily on Cthelu’s shoulder now. He can’t keep his eyes open, but a swishing sound in his ears wakes him up.

They’re in a room filled with beds, most of them empty but stained with sweat and blood. The people were here; they either healed or they ended up by those trees -- dead.

A man stands in the corner with a mask over his mouth, and the same kind of loose sarong that Cthelu is wearing. He gestures for Leonard to follow him. On the way, Cthelu says, “He waits for travellers who’ve been hit by the illness. Sometimes it is merely elders or children who strayed too far.”

The man explains something in their language, so Cthelu has to translate as Leonard is pushed to sit down on a – thankfully – clean bed with fresh, white sheets.

Cthelu touches Leonard’s wrist to get his attention. “He must now recite a list of prayers to save your soul from the fever.” Pointing to a balcony with an open door, he continues, “You must first lie down outside with eyes open, then inside on this bed with eyes closed.”

As much as Leonard would like to drop his usual cynical point of view, this ritual is only said to have worked with spiritual minds like the inhabitants of Nibiru (or even some of the elder Vulcans), but not as much with people from Earth because of their skepticism. Their pessimism.

The man returns with a robe like his own, but in all white. He hands it to Leonard and leaves the room to fetch the spiritual texts that he’ll need to recite. Cthelu whispers to Leonard, “Please take your time deciding if this is what you want.” He waits in the hall, leaving him completely to his thoughts.

Leonard lets his eyes trail the room thoroughly this time. The stains tell him not many of these inhabitants have made it out alive. If a people with so much faith in their deity can’t survive the illness, how can he? Too bad even before he arrived he didn’t believe it would work.

It’s just too much, at this point. He feels too ill and guilty to try and fix what he’s done. It kills him to even consider it, but he’s about to give up. It was his decision to stay longer and find a cure; since he didn’t find one, it’s only fair he live with the consequences – just as this beautiful planet will slowly wither away, one inhabitant at a time.

The moment Leonard hears footsteps he prepares to go out onto the balcony. Jim is the one who storms in, fists clenched at his sides. For the first time in years, Leonard is afraid for his life because of Jim’s murderous scowl as he stalks towards him. He thinks, fleetingly, he’s going to be killed or beaten to death or arrested, tortured maybe, but Jim just throws the white clothing to the ground and hugs him tightly. Leonard breathes out what he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Come with me,” grinds Jim, dragging Leonard out of the ritual room like a petulant child.

In the hall, Spock is waiting with his skin slightly flushed and his hands folded behind his back. Leonard nods at him to be polite, but turns a quizzical look on Jim. _What the hell’s he doing here?_

Spock clears his throat and pulls out a letter from his Starfleet pant pocket. From where Leonard’s standing, he can see it’s handwritten. The writing curls in cursive, leaning left and right in a rushed fashion. He must have written it on the way here. “I am aware we have had numerous misunderstandings—”

“You’ve got that right,” snipes Leonard from under his breath. Jim nudges an elbow into his ribs that nearly makes him keel over; he’s still dying, in case they forgot. Jim rights him with an apologetic pat on the back.

Spock waits a moment, watching Leonard with a tight look. When it’s silent, he continues, “But you are the correct species, age, gender, height, weight and personality type to complement mine.” He folds the letter, slipping it back into his pocket. He stands straighter than he had, unable to meet Leonard’s gaze now.

Leonard can’t blame him. Even in the Vulcan speech pattern, which often doesn’t give away any hint of emotion, that was a confession. Spock _cares_ for Leonard – in spite of their bickering and disagreements. He doesn’t want him to give up on life; Vulcans know more than anyone why it’s important to cherish the time given.

There was no way Leonard would have survived through spiritual healing; it’s just now how he works. His mind would have went back to science, calculating percentages, odds of his body shutting down, the rate at which his heart would beat before it stopped…Cthelu might have read his skepticism and called Jim when Leonard couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Jim turns Leonard to face him, both hands on his shoulders simultaneously keeping him from running and holding him up. “Do you really want to go through with this hocus pocus knowing you’ll be leaving two great men behind?” He smiles, warm and a tiny bit sad. His eyes already damp at the lash line.

Leonard shakes his head, feeling dizzy from the movement. “I guess not,” he breathes out, letting his weight fall into Jim’s hands. He can’t pretend he’s not weak anymore; they know better. Cthelu probably went to get them, the sneaky bastard. He’ll have to thank him for that.

Jim sighs out a loud laugh, nodding with relief. Moving to one side, he wraps his arm around Leonard’s shoulder. He says, “Good because Spock already found the cure.”

Spock meets Leonard on the opposite side, careful not to make direct contact with skin. They stare at each other as Leonard is more or less dragged away by the two of them. He sees a green flush climbing along both of Spock’s cheeks, even though he refuses to look at him.

“Listen here, you, just ‘cause I’m dying doesn’t mean you can just go and drop a love confession on me like that. We’re going to have words when I’m feeling better, Spock. Lots of ‘em,” grumbles Leonard.

Drifting into the fever, going deep into his consciousness faster than Leonard can warn them, his head falls forward. But just before he passes out, he swears Spock whispers, “Thank you, doctor.”

 

*

 

The cure, as it turns out, involves Khan’s blood - _again_. Khan who is meant to be asleep in a pod somewhere with his crew, away from their ship and any weapons he could get his hands on. Not that Leonard has any say in the matter; he’s unconscious when they inject him with the antidote that mainly contains Khan’s genetic healing element. And while he’s healing, Spock recreates the mixture and gives it to Cthelu as thanks for leading them to their beloved doctor.

Leonard wakes slowly, then all at once when he feels drool on the top of his hand. Even before his eyes are open, or knowing if he can use his voice, he shouts, “Dammit, Jim!” and startles his friend out of sleep.

“Bones, you’re awake,” he croaks, his voice a nervous replica of his usual charming one. He pulls part of the sheet up to wipe Leonard’s hand. “Sorry. It was a long night.” The back of his neck is red, from scratching probably. A nervous thing Leonard’s only seen on very tense occasions.

“Was it? Did I… _struggle_ to come back like you did?” asks Leonard, rolling his ankles and his wrists. Everything feels tight from not moving for so long.

“Three times, I think.” Jim rubs at his nape, looking off to the side. He touches Leonard’s hand softly, almost too gentle; like he’s afraid Leonard could break again and be gone. “I had to leave after the second time because I thought…” He swallows, closing his eyes. “I thought you wouldn’t make it.”

“Yeah,” agrees Leonard, rubbing his eyes. Jim has dark circles around his eyes, his baby blues popping from the redness of the whites surrounding them. It’s been a long – something. Leonard can’t tell if it’s day or night, but he’s glad Jim stayed to see him wake up from it. “I get it. Thanks for coming back.” He sits up, groaning when his calves refuse to cooperate. “W-where’s that hobgoblin anyway?”

“I am here, doctor. And I would appreciate if you didn’t refer to me as such,” deadpans Spock, a clipboard in his hands. “How are you feeling?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were the CMO of this ship,” teases Leonard, cracking his neck side to side.

Jim smiles, squeezing Leonard’s hand, sitting back in his bedside chair – an uncomfortable, archaic wood thing that they must have built by hand for how simple it is.

Spock frowns pointedly and in silence at Leonard’s smirk.

Leonard sighs. There’s no teasing a Vulcan when he has a goal in mind. “I’m doing fine, Spock. Just fine.”

“I am glad to hear,” he replies. “I will relay your status to Khan so he may know that the procedure has worked, and that no further transfusions will be necessary.”

Leonard wonders if he imagines the bitter tinge to that last part.

 

*

 

“Are you out of your star-gazing mind?” snaps Leonard, pushing Jim into a corner of the ship. A couple of the crew members give them a dirty look as if they’re making out, and Leonard hisses at them, “I’ll stick you so full of hypos you won’t know where you are for a week! Keep walking!” It has the desired effect.

Jim gently tries to pry Leonard’s fingers from his uniform. “I know it’s hard to remember, but I’m _captain_ Kirk aboard the Enterprise.”

“Don’t get coy, kid,” growls Leonard. “You woke that fiendish, psychopathic genius knowing full-well what he’s capable of.” He stares at Jim with narrowed eyes, letting his face convey just how stupid he thinks that plan was.

“I didn’t,” mutters Jim from the corner of his mouth. “Spock did,” he whispers even quieter. “He said it was the only way ‘to ensure the survival of CMO McCoy as well as the inhabitants of the planet’.”

Leonard elbows Jim as he pushes past him towards sickbay, for effect mostly. “You better hope Khan hasn’t killed half the ship already.”

 

*

 

It wasn’t right having Khan back out of sleep.

Leonard reaches sickbay and his staff are all huddled in one corner – understandably. Security personnel do the opposite, boxing in the unwelcome stranger so he can’t move from where he’s been set up. Khan sits up on his designated bed, both arms calmly in his lap, and his eyes fixed forward. A repeat of the complacence he acted out before Jim took him to the Commander’s ship. He ignores the guns clearly pointed at him, but peers at Leonard briefly; it sends a cold, sick drip of sweat down the middle of Leonard’s back. Then it warms, and his stomach aches to feel it all over. Almost as if Leonard’s experiencing butterflies.

“Hello again, Dr. McCoy,” says Khan, eyes back to looking directly ahead. “I understand that you needed my blood in order to remain alive.” The guards shuffle apart slightly so they can make eye contact easier.

“Not me,” grits Leonard, picking up Khan’s chart and looking it over briefly. He throws it on his desk. He’s as healthy as he’ll always be. No wonder there’s five men instead of just the usual two surrounding Khan.

“Oh? I assumed you were the only doctor—”

“You assumed wrong,” interjects Spock, walking toward Leonard. Quietly, he tells him, “May I have a word, doctor?”

“In here or…?” asks Leonard, eyeing Khan warily. Maybe he should ask Jim for a weapon, just in case the officers aren’t fast enough.

“I will be brief,” says Spock, “please follow me outside of medical bay.”

 

\---

 

They end up just outside the door, in case Khan decides to hurt one of the other physicians or nurses. Leonard looks around the corridor, seeing no one, but Spock still isn’t saying anything. He prods him the only way he knows how: “What is it, Spock? I don’t have all day!”

“There is no need for you to raise your voice.” He wipes out the creases of his uniform, taking longer than usual to meet Leonard’s eyes. “I wanted to reassure you that I do not expect a romantic relationship between us immediately.” Leonard’s eyes bulge, and he goes on, “It is understandable that considering your recent demise, you need time to reflect upon my proposition and resettle into your previous post as CMO.”

Maybe if he keeps staring, his eyes will fall out and Spock will get that everything he said made utterly no sense to him. Unfortunately, Spock takes the silence as agreement, and nods once. “You may resume your duties.”

When he turns his back and starts walking away, Leonard’s voice returns. “You’re damn right, I will. It’s the only goddamn thing that makes a lick of sense in here.”

 

*

 

In his room, he sleeps soundly, but only for an hour. He awakes in a cold sweat, with heat trailing up his thighs and gathering in his groin. There’s no time for that in the middle of the night; not when he’s just finished a fifteen hour shift. Falling back asleep takes fifteen minutes, but his blanket feels suffocating, too tight, warm and thick and enveloping every part of his body. Half-asleep, he hears a voice repeating his name. A deep rumbling voice that doesn’t belong in his bedroom. Doesn’t belong anywhere on this ship.

 _You have me to thank, Dr. McCoy. Come thank me_.

It keeps rumbling, and roaring through his ears like thunder. His pulse jumps, and he leaps out of sleep, clutching his sweat-soaked blanket to his chest. The room is dark, save for the flicker of his intercom at the door.

On a hunch, he leaves his room and goes to find Jim in his own.

 

\---

 

“I thought you went to bed,” says Jim, looking him over. “I’d say you should probably go back for some more rest.”

“Thanks, pal. I can always count on a compliment from you,” grumbles Leonard, seated at a table with him. He takes the glass of bourbon he’s offered. “I just dreamt of Khan of all people. To think it’s not enough I have his blood in me against my will, now this nonsense.”

Jim sips from his glass. “Welcome to my world,” he says, raising it in the air.

Leonard blinks twice, then narrows his eyes into slits of fire and brimstone. “Jim, if you mean to say you knew that I’d be having these inappropriate thoughts about a deadly killer and you didn’t think to warn – oh, let’s see - _Spock_ before letting him dose me with his blood, I think I may have to kill you right now.”

Jim shrugs with one shoulder, splashing the bourbon around his cup. “It starts to fade eventually.”

“You better tell your BFF that I’ve got a temporary crush on a mass murderer,” grinds Leonard, downing the last of his drink. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good,” mutters Jim, raising his brows.

“What was that?” snaps Leonard, cutting his eyes at Jim over his shoulder. He adds a curl to his mouth, a half-snarl, just to see if the effect is as good as it was when he was in medical school and working with two hours of sleep.

Jim spits half of his bourbon down his chin. “I mean, good night.” He gives a weak smile, chuckling nervously. He waves politely afterward, his eyes wide, wary.

Leonard chuckles all the way back to his room, wanting to relive that moment again and again. He’s still got it.

 

*

 

In the morning, Leonard’s head throbs and he downs a glass of water and some painkillers the old fashioned way. After showering and slipping into his uniform, he heads to his post. Except he doesn’t make it to his office; he’s standing in front of Khan, who looks irritated for some reason.

“Rough night?” asks Leonard, trying to figure out why his legs led him here. There must have been a reason…

“Jim visited twice,” says Khan, lying back on his biobed. “Both times he woke me to try and hurt me. Not that there was any point.”

“Someone has to,” quips Leonard, somehow unable to continue glaring when Khan looks towards him. He’s drawn closer, his hand resting on the bottom frame of Khan’s bed.

Khan smirks. “You have the same affliction.” He closes his eyes, sighing softly. “I see.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” snaps Leonard, turning his back to Khan.

Bad idea. Very bad idea. Do not give homicidal maniacs a chance to hurt you.

“I don’t think it wise to lie,” whispers Khan, standing right behind Leonard. His chest presses against his back when he breathes. “You would only be deceiving yourself.”

Leonard elbows him, even though it causes a sting in his own muscles and nothing else. When he turns, Khan is statuesque in expression and posture. He straightens his clothes and lies back down on the bed.

“If you’ve nothing to say or do to me,” he says, “I suggest you return to your duties.”

What is it with everyone telling him what to do? But –

Goddammit, he’s right.

“You stay put,” warns Leonard. “Someone will be back to make sure you aren’t planning genocide in your sleep.”

 

*

 

At his post, Leonard’s mind drifts. It’s full examinations season, and the crew arrive one by one prepared for each test. The same way that it’s habitual for him, it is for them, and they don’t fuss or interfere in any way that could make things take longer. It’s an efficient process, except when there are _added_ members.

His mind has already been rebelliously seeking out Khan’s every moment he doesn’t reel it back in. Not that their minds can touch in any way. Not that it would do any good if they could; it would make things significantly worse – for Leonard. Khan would probably get a giddy thrill out of knowing how much heat Leonard produces at night, tossing and turning in his sheets, sweating like a furnace is beneath his bed.

 

\---

 

After Sulu is pulling his shirt down, bowing his head to Leonard, Khan is escorted in by Jim and Spock as well as a few other personnel members with weapons and restraints at the ready.

“He’s not part of the crew,” spits Leonard, his eyes darting between the two he knows. He ignores the urge to look into the light hazel that is the man between them. It’s like trying to blink with half of your eye.

“I know,” sighs Jim, leading Khan to the bed. Khan sits down without a word, removing his shirt already. “But he’s aboard the ship, and as the Captain I wouldn’t feel right if he wasn’t checked as well. He’s in our custody. He’s our responsibility.”

“Fine,” snaps Leonard. “But if he turns out to have Andorian shingles, I’m keeping my damn mouth shut.”

Spock’s brows crease for a brief moment, but Leonard catches it. His face is blank once more when he says, “That would not be wise as you would be knowingly disobeying a direct—”

“Spock,” Jim cuts in. “He won’t do that.” Jim nods to Leonard with an understanding smile. He gives Khan a confusing look; a mixture of anger and…attraction. From firsthand experience, Leonard can tell it means he’s still feeling the blood connection.

With his hands folded behind his back, Spock leans forward to tell Leonard, “I will not be far should you require assistance.”

Leonard is so taken aback, he doesn’t whisper _thank you_ until the Vulcan is already out the door.

As he prepares the equipment for the medical, Khan tracks each movement with his eyes. He smirks when Leonard’s frown makes the creases around his mouth more visible. He raises his arm for Leonard to draw blood, and keeps his eyes fixed to his. He tilts his head, successfully getting his attention.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” grits Leonard, “It’ll last longer.”

Khan out and out laughs, not even a flinch when Leonard shoves the needle in harder than needed. “You are far more amusing than I’ve anticipated.” His smile widens when Leonard tries to cut him in half with a look.

“Yeah, well, I’m also more violent than you’d expect,” warns Leonard, dipping his head to point out the sharp tools at his disposal. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Oh, I won’t,” murmurs Khan. He places his hands in his lap when Leonard is finished taking blood. “But tell me, doctor, what does your Vulcan think of the sexual dreams you’re having about me?”

“Shut up,” spits Leonard, turning his back to Khan. “Shut your lying mouth.”

“I can’t help but wonder how long before he realizes I’ve occupied a space he’s vying for,” purrs Khan, watching as Leonard shakes with anger. “Will he try to tear me apart again? He might succeed this time.”

Leonard takes two deep breaths, squeezing the hypospray in his palm that he’s seconds away from jabbing in Khan’s neck so this medical goes by silently and without taunting. He lets it fall onto the metal tray instead, and turns to Khan. “We can only hope.”

 

*

 

While he’s awake, Leonard can contemplate Spock’s proposition. It’s a goddamn pain in the ass, is what it is! The green-blooded jerk couldn’t have mentioned it before he almost died? He obviously cares for Leonard if he was willing to wake a psychopath that killed their best friend a year ago. He’s made it clear that he wants Leonard romantically, that he’s going to wait if necessary, but what if finding out about the bond he has with Khan destroys all of that. And how did he hide this _while_ dating Uhura and constantly pushing Leonard’s buttons? Why –

Leonard sips bourbon from a glass, holding his head. His desk in his office is covered with medical forms that he needs to sign and send to Starfleet so they can know everyone is fit for duty. But one – _the_ one he was never supposed to do – isn’t signed yet. He doesn’t know if he should send it. He knows he shouldn’t, but a deeper part wants to; it wants him to get Khan detected, get him sent away. Leonard gulps some of the bourbon and scribbles his signature, shoving it at the bottom of the pile. The longer it takes them to notice Khan is awake again, the better.

How did they even sneak him out of the base without anyone realizing? There’s going to be some words around the ship, and Leonard is going to have them with Jim. He’s always the one permitting the insanity.

Leonard groans when his back pops; he hasn’t stretched in five hours. Khan’s medical was the worst, but he has a feeling that Spock’s will be the most awkward by a mile.

 

\---

 

Spock is seated primly on the biobed, focusing intently on Leonard’s hands as he prepares for the last medical of the year. There’s a stillness around Spock that makes him eerie, like an angel statue or a gargoyle. But more attractive than either.

Leonard frowns, wondering where that thought came from. He clears his throat to say, “Remove your shirt, please.”

“Certainly,” replies Spock, his voice sounding deeper than usual.

Seconds pass, and in them Leonard misses the tick of a clock to fill the silence. There’s nothing but the sound of breathing – his – as Spock is still and concentrated on this task. A task he’s not even performing.

At the same time that Leonard says, “Your arm,” Spock asks, “How was your day?”

Leonard drops the device to draw blood, and stutters out, “Long.”

“How unfortunate,” says Spock, outstretching his arm. His eyes are still focused on Leonard’s hands. “Should you need my aid next time, do not hesitate to ask.”

“Uh, thanks,” mutters Leonard, pricking the green-tinged forearm. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

The blood climbs into the device, easy and clear of clots. “Impossible.”

Leonard’s mind had been sliding back into Khan territory because of the silence; wondering what he’s doing now, if Jim is visiting him again. If he’s alone, if he’s all right. If he’s tried to kill anyone, if he’d like to kiss Leonard –

Wait, back up – _impossible_? That sounds awfully flirty for a Vulcan, let alone Spock who has a point to prove.

“Did you just say I can’t possibly hurt you?” asks Leonard, capping the device when it’s filled. He chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure I have already.”

“I don’t believe so. I would recall such an incident.” He stretches his fingers, twirling his wrist.

“Sure, Spock,” says Leonard, “whatever you say.”

Spock’s hand reaches for Leonard, gently pressing against his shoulder with only a few of his fingers. “Why do I detect a hint of sadness in your tone?” He pushes his fingers harder against the skin, and even through the Starfleet uniform, Leonard notices that buzz zip through him. “You have feelings for another.”

He stands up with all the fluidity of his ancestors, closer to Leonard than he’s ever been in the past. He leans in and says, “Who is the person?”

Before Leonard can wrap his mind around a shirtless Vulcan, who happens to be the first officer, being in love with him (or some likeness of it) and suddenly showing a possessive streak, he blurts out, “Nobody. I have enough on my plate without chasing after someone like a boy pulling pigtails.”

Spock takes his shirts, sliding them back on. “I will find them and explain that you have no interest.”

Leonard splutters out sounds more than words, grasping at a trail of thoughts that make no sense. He lets himself sit on the bed, holding his head. “What have I got myself into now?”

 

*

 

Lunch is a challenge in self-restraint.

Jim is in no way ashamed of sitting with a mass murderer (or he’s just too drawn-in because of how much blood he was given - a lot more than Leonard was, by the way). They actually seem comfortable chatting at the table, as many crew members look on in horror, Leonard included. Spock bypasses sitting with Jim as he usually would when he sees Khan is next to him. He makes his way to Leonard’s table with a tight look on his face. For a Vulcan, he’s been surprisingly expressive lately.

“May I sit, doctor?” he asks, holding on to his tray. His face doesn’t betray his nervousness, but the white-knuckled grip does.

“Knock yourself out,” says Leonard, shoving a spoonful of artificial potatoes into his mouth. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Jim’s table, even as Spock sits across from him. He looks over his shoulder.

Spock clears his throat, slow blinking. It must mean something in his robot terms, but Leonard can’t be sure what.

“If you got somethin’ to say, spit it out,” grumps Leonard, taking a gulp of water.

With a pinched expression, Spock opens his mouth to say something, then seems to think better of it. He shakes his head instead. “No, doctor. I have nothing to say.”

“All right,” drawls Leonard, nodding. “So how’s the food? I never tried the vegetarian dishes before.”

“It is acceptable,” says Spock, his gaze focused downward. There’s a flush creeping up his cheeks again; a light green like mint ice cream.

Leonard wonders if he should be comparing Spock to food that someone licks; if he’d mind being compared to something cold and sweet, and delicious on his tongue. Maybe he’s gone a bit too far.

Jim throws his head back in a laugh, the way he does when Leonard surprises him with a witty, yet cutting retort. Khan is smiling as he eyes the captain. He sips his water, prince-like and elegant, and his eyes meet Leonard’s across the cafeteria. He holds his gaze.

Leonard chokes on his next sip of water when Khan decides to wet his lips.

“Are you all right, doctor?” asks Spock, leaning forward to say it privately.

“Peachy,” says Leonard with a guttural quality to his voice because of the water that grated his throat the wrong way. Or maybe the smug look on Khan’s face as he keeps watching Leonard.

Meanwhile, Jim is babbling about something; Leonard can tell from the neutral look on Khan’s face – though, he sort of always looks that way. Except when he’s trying to make people choke on food and drinks, apparently.

Spock eyes Leonard with a hint of worry – that little wrinkle that he gets at the corner of his eyes, imperceptible unless you know what to look for – his fork halfway to his mouth. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

“Fine, fine,” reassures Leonard, narrowing his eyes for a second at Khan who smirks his way.

Unfortunately, Spock catches it, and he turns just in time to see the shark-grin that spreads over Khan’s face.

The rest feels like a dream. No, a _nightmare_.

Spock’s eyes snap back to Leonard’s face, and he growls, “It is _him_.”

But before Leonard can deny it, he’s pushing away from their table and stalking over to Jim’s. He has the decency to lift Khan up from his seat before knocking him down with a punch that would break anyone else’s jaw. Leonard knows the damage he did to Jim when his mother died, but this seems fiercer somehow. Like a fire ravaging a forest between two bats of an eye.

Spock draws back and punches, punches, punches until his knuckles split and Jim is screaming “Spock! Spock, stop this now! That’s an order! I am your captain. Stand down!"

Leonard is frozen again. Frozen at the wrong time. Unable to even look away from the horror of Spock snapping Khan’s wrist before letting him fall back in his seat like a rag-doll. Jim puffs up as if ready to fight Spock if he has to, his body blocking Khan’s.

Everyone stares at Spock now; Khan’s presence is almost forgotten. Jim checks the damage to his wrist, a look of concern on his face that the murderer doesn’t deserve, especially since he inadvertently killed Jim once. With a growl, Jim tells Spock, “If our roles were switched you wouldn’t even think before dropping me onto a frozen planet for a stunt like this. But because I know you – I know what this is about – I’ll cut you some slack. But you’re still off-duty. You need to take some time and realize the image you’re sending—”

A ringing in Leonard’s ears keeps him from seeing Spock stalk back to him, lift him from his seat, and drag him away as Jim shouts, “Spock! Come back here. I’m not finished speaking!”

They’re out of the cafeteria with everyone gaping, a heavy silence filled with fear and discomfort takes their place. It’s not often Leonard feels safer with a super soldier from the past rather than his ship’s first officer. Spock who is usually logic and serenity.

 

\---

 

Leonard’s in his office, but it’s a blur as to how he got here. When Spock brought him out of the cafeteria, he simply touched his face and looked horrified, his hands shaking. He turned left down the hall, and Leonard went the opposite way. To his office apparently, where there’s bourbon waiting and work to do. Like the other half of Spock’s physical, and looking over Khan’s injuries – whenever he shows up.

In the desk, it’s waiting for him. The bourbon. He saves it for really bad days (when Jim died temporarily) usually, but he needs to make an exception. Spock becoming that violent, savage beast, that his ancestors fought so hard to suppress, made Leonard’s nerves jump. Khan wasn’t any better with his open flirtation, knowing Leonard would react the way he wanted because it couldn’t be helped. The effects of the transfusion are less now, definitely, but not gone. Not far enough for his heart to keep from thumping at the sight of him across the cafeteria.

If it was his choice, Khan would be sent into a black hole, and the ship would be back to normal. Whatever normal is now that Spock is so openly possessive of him.

The swish of the bourbon is loud enough, as he concentrates on it, that he doesn’t notice Khan in his office right away. He jumps when he looks up to see him standing there. There’s a smugness to him; a natural air of importance, condescension. But also interest. Otherwise he would have killed them all already most likely. At least, that’s how Leonard sees it.

“Need me to check your wrist?” asks Leonard, downing his bourbon, because he damn well needs the sting in his veins. He’d love to see Khan bleeding because of Spock.

Khan rolls his sleeve up slowly, saying, “The captain insisted.” The lilt in his voice sends a shiver up Leonard’s spine. He wants to cut his skin off in protest.

“Yeah, I bet,” grinds Leonard, taking Khan’s wrist.

The touch burns him, physically, but also mentally. He feels an injection of heat course through his body the moment skin touches skin. He forgot to put on gloves: a stupid mistake. His breath wheezes out painfully, and Khan tilts his head, with an amused smirk.

“My, doctor, it seems as though the affliction is still present.”

“Not a word, you son of a bitch,” snaps Leonard, shoving his wrist away. “Get the hell out of my office.”

Khan leans forward, one hand planted on his desk. “Are you certain that’s what you’d prefer?”

“Yes,” growls Leonard, not meeting Khan’s eyes. Because he can’t. Because he won’t. Because Spock made it really clear how dangerous he can be when he feels threatened.

“Lying is a sin, I hear,” purrs Khan, moving closer to capture Leonard’s gaze.

“So is murder, and I think Spock might be capable of that,” warns Leonard, grinding his teeth as Khan keeps watching him like he’s a science experiment. He doesn’t care about him; he just wants to see how far he can push, where this can go, before something snaps and all hell breaks loose.

“As you wish,” says Khan, sauntering out.

Leonard breathes a sigh of relief – until Spock walks in.

Their eyes meet, and Leonard sighs, reaching for the bottle he meant to put away.

“Has he done something to you?” asks Spock, the worry audible from another galaxy. He takes a seat in the wood chair next to Leonard’s desk.

Leonard shakes his head. “He’s just messing with me,” he explains, pouring a thumb of bourbon in his glass. Then groaning and adding more when he sees the wrinkle of Spock’s brows. “I’m fine. I’m a grown man. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Reaching for Leonard’s wrist, Spock strokes the inside of the skin gently. It sends a tingle of warmth across the exposed area, but Leonard shivers as it sinks in. Spock drops his wrist like it’s on fire, standing abruptly. Like he did in the cafeteria.

Leonard’s eyes widen; this time he’s ready for him. He grabs Spock by the shoulders and holds him there, making him stay still for a moment. “I said I’m fine. You’re not going after him again.”

Spock carefully extricates both of Leonard’s hands, rubbing their fingers together in a brief caress – if Leonard’s memory serves him well, a _kiss_. He feels a flush climb up from his chin, and because he’s so distracted by the feeling, the casual display of affection he’s never even seen him do with Uhura, Leonard can’t catch his shirt as he rushes out and after Khan. Again.

 

*

 

Luckily, Khan can recover from almost anything, even a Vulcan pummeling. He’s bruised up, sure, but nothing like what happens to the rest of the crew on the ship. With a bit of help from Leonard’s tricorder, he’s back to being brand new; Jim is kind enough to escort him back and forth so he doesn’t trigger any of Spock’s buttons purposely.

But the problem with that is Jim’s attachment. The more time he spends with Khan, the less he wants to send him back to sleep. And the less he wants to send him back, the more chores he gives him to do so at least he can be useful. When there aren’t any tasks left, Jim walks him back to _his_ room. A homicidal super-being sleeping in the captain’s room.

It’s unheard of; it’s foolish is what it is. (Leonard wishes he could do it.)

The moment Jim sits in his captain’s chair, staring blankly at a PADD message that he’s meant to send off to Starfleet regarding a new planet they’ve encountered, Leonard knows trouble is lurking. Jim genuinely likes Khan, and that was noticeable even when he was being held captive in a cell, crying about his crew that was frozen.

Leonard saw the footage. It was touching, but Jim looked wrecked after he heard it. Anyone who cares for their crew above anything else is the kind of person he’s drawn to. It’s why he keeps Spock and Leonard around.

It’s why Khan is unsafely resting in his quarters now. Surprisingly, he hasn’t made a move yet. He could have slit Jim’s neck the instant he fell asleep, but he hasn’t. And every morning that Khan walks out, Leonard worries Jim won’t walk out right after him. Spock eyes the two of them the same way Leonard does, but his room is right next door. Maybe he knows something he’s not sharing.

 

\---

 

Spock sits at Leonard’s table, next to him this time. It helps Leonard keep an eye on his best friend, and the danger sitting next to him. Leonard assumes Spock prefers this seating arrangement because he can both catch Khan flirting, and touch Leonard’s wrist whenever he feels like it.

Not that he does it.

Leonard leans over, his eyes forward. “What’s up with them?” he asks.

“I do not understand,” says Spock, chewing his salad more slowly.

“Why are they attached at the hip? Khan killed Jim,” grumbles Leonard, glaring when Khan looks his way.

Spock must do the same because Khan turns quickly to look at Jim instead. He whispers, “They are in a sexual relationship,” just as Leonard is swallowing a forkful of pasta.

Leonard chokes violently for what feels like years - if the eyes on him are anything to go by. And Spock is kind enough to pat him on the back, albeit awkwardly and with his fingers spread apart.

“The hell!” groans Leonard, raising a brow. “Couldn’t you have tried to wait until I didn’t have my mouth full?” Spock says nothing in reply, his eyes downcast.

The moment Spock finishes his lunch, he stands, fixes his shirt and nods his head at Leonard. “Doctor.”

“Spock,” replies Leonard gruffly.

“I shall come to your office this evening,” he says, his lips twitching up briefly.

Leonard stares, his mouth hanging open dumbly. “Is that a smile?”

Spock clears his throat, rushing out of the cafeteria.

 

*

 

It’s way past midnight, but he’s still trying to figure out how to fill out reports for an illness he didn’t cure. Finally he gives up; Spock is the one who found the solution, and he’ll be passing by later anyway.

He leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. A glass of whiskey – some concoction the replicator made for him – swirls slowly in his right palm. His other hand rests on his lap, loose and comfortable. The whiskey tastes one step away from ass, but it’s strong enough to leave a decent burn down his throat each time he swallows it.

It even makes him hum with pleasure after a few sips. He gets used to the taste, too. He shuts his eyes and lets the drink do its work; lets it slide raggedly down his throat and settle in a warm pit. But soon the pit turns into a burning, and it moves lower. It gathers between his legs; makes him shift on his desk until he has to uncross his legs on his desk, spread them a bit.

If Spock came in with him like this, he might never want to visit again. Or he might come all the time. Leonard can’t be sure, because only recently did he find out there was anything between them at all. He’s the absolute poker face, that one.

There’s a knock at the door, and then the person comes in. Leonard keeps his eyes shut, enjoying the buzz that’s coming along. He takes another sip, leaning against the back of his chair. He waits for Spock to say something. He’s the one who wanted to see him in his office.

“Enjoying yourself, doctor?” asks Khan, trailing a finger along Leonard’s leg, and holding on to his knee.

Leonard’s chair tips back sharply, and he nearly crashes onto the floor. But Khan is superhuman; he catches the falling chair, rights it, and sets Leonard back onto it. “Be careful. The Enterprise needs its CMO.”

“Thanks a lot,” grunts Leonard, “Just tell me what you want now, Khan. Every time you come to my office—”

“I bring more trouble,” says Khan, nodding. “Yes, I’m aware of our interactions.” He places his hands on Leonard’s armrests, their faces a scant few inches apart. “There’s something that draws me to you.”

Turning his face away – not without a struggle; the blood still rushes to the surface whenever Khan’s near – Leonard grinds out, “I wish it was mutual.”

  
“Oh, but I know that it is.” Khan leans in, a breath away from Leonard’s face now. “The same way Kirk can’t help but call me to his bed every night. Begging me to tear him apart against his sheets, soaking them in sweat and other fluids.”

“Thanks for the image,” rasps Leonard, his heartbeat fluttering with Khan so close to him. If he turned now, their lips would be touching. They would kiss. He’d finally know what it’s like to give in to the pull that the blood is synthesizing.

Spock comes in, just as Leonard considers giving in to the struggle, his eyes focused on the smirk stretched across Khan’s mouth. Not a second later, Spock screams as if in battle and rips Khan away from Leonard, his fist connecting with his face, the sound monstrous and loud from where Leonard is seated. Khan is obviously taken by surprise because he hasn’t even thrown a punch yet, and Spock folds him in half, trying to break him – literally.

“Spock!” shouts Leonard, throwing himself between them, both hands on Spock’s face.

It gives Khan enough time to heal; enough time to gather himself and laugh mockingly, one knee on the ground. He looks at Spock with a challenging grin, and Leonard knows that’s the wrong idea.

Spock launches at Khan, tearing his shirt off in the rush to try and crack his spine. As much as Leonard dislikes using hypos – except on Jim because he runs away too often – he’s forced to use two of them on Spock, both in the neck. It’s barely enough to settle him down, but it makes him aware of his surroundings. Aware of the fear blooming in Leonard’s tight smile. He doesn’t know why he tries to look comfortable for him, but he does.

Khan has the decency to walk away as Spock passes out, not tempting fate anymore. He leaves in silence, his shirt in tatters. With a sigh of relief, Leonard calls Jim through the comm.

“What’s up, Bones?”

“It’s Spock. I had to knock him out. I need you to help me get him to his quarters,” says Leonard, slightly winded and no less in shock.

Spock was moments away from killing Khan with his bare hands. Without hesitation or consideration for his career with Starfleet. Willing to lose it all just to stop Khan from taking what he thinks is his: Leonard.

Spock groans in his sleep, and Leonard touches his forehead. It’s burning up. He tells Jim, “And hurry.”

“I’ll be there in two,” replies Jim.

 

*

 

Leonard goes about his days with a sluggish haze surrounding his routine. Patients’ faces morph into one; he forgets their names, their ailments. He drinks every night before bed so he can pass out on his sheets, face down, pushing the thoughts of Khan out. Not that the thoughts of Spock breaking him in half are welcome either.

Jim still sits with Khan, who has learned not to poke Spock anymore. Actually, Leonard thinks it’s good Jim is keeping an eye on Khan the way he is – whether it’s because of the blood or not – because he knows firsthand how unwise it is to infuriate Spock. He probably told him that if he wants to die, that is the fastest way to get there.

And despite what everyone aboard the Enterprise believes, Khan has a respect for Jim and his morals. From the moment he was boarded on the ship, he’s always offered Jim more understanding than he did the others. He could have killed him more than once, and he hasn’t. He’s never really tried – not directly. Leonard understands that now.

Maybe it’s Khan’s blood talking to him; because he’s damn sure he’s not supposed to care about a villain like him.

Spock tries to sit at Leonard’s table, but Leonard can’t look at him. Not the way he did. He’s afraid. More than once now he’s seen Spock rampaging, but it was never that bad. In the past, he’d been able to stop before it went too far. This time he couldn’t. He wouldn’t have if Leonard hadn’t shot him with sedatives.

Leonard keeps his eyes down, on his tray of mushy peas and synthesized meat. Spock, however, gazes at Leonard the entire time. After five minutes of uncomfortable silence, he says, “You can trust me, doctor. I will not hurt you.”

“How do I know that?” mutters Leonard, sighing. “How do I know the next time Khan starts flirting you won’t go after the both of us?”

Spock puts down his utensils. “Because I am logical. I am unperturbed the way others are. I can control my emotions more efficiently.” He tries to reach for Leonard’s hand, but he puts them on his lap to avoid showing Spock the fear in his mind. Even he’s not that cruel.

“I will endeavour to regain your trust,” says Spock, leaving his seat and bringing his tray with him. He throws his food away and exits the cafeteria.

Leonard’s appetite disappears too.

 

*

 

Khan is smart enough to avoid Spock the next couple of days. Leonard sees how he makes a beeline when they nearly pass each other in corridors or in the cafeteria. He makes sure to stick to Jim’s side as to avoid confrontation – which just makes Leonard’s blood go cold faster. It’s terrifying, to be honest. Leonard never thought the fighting would end, but it has.

Spock has made his point clear to Khan.

However, that’s not the most alarming part. What really disturbs Leonard is how much he enjoyed seeing Spock being wild and fierce, animalistic; his need to possess Leonard so strong that he was willing to go to prison. Maybe it’s because it reminded him of Khan, whose blood still courses through him. Since he carries his blood, his people’s mentality must come along with it, Leonard supposes.

Luckily, Spock is true to his word and doesn’t have any more aggressive displays the following week. He continues to sit at Leonard’s table, but he doesn’t speak, and doesn’t stare the way he had, demonstrating his longing for him.

It’s funny how Leonard and Jim always wanted Spock to show more emotion, and now that he has, they’re both afraid of it.

 

*

 

 

Nearly five days later, when Leonard is on the verge of speaking to Spock again, less afraid of interaction with him, they discover a planet. After a few messages to Starfleet, they’re granted access to explore and speak with the locals – if there are any, and if they want to be spoken to, of course.

They’ve all come to terms with being unwanted on _certain_ planets because of Nibiru.

A quick scan of the surface shows an almost exact replica of the air composition as on Earth. Jim looks at Leonard who frowns deeply.

“I know what you’re thinking, kid. Not a good idea,” he warns, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jim slaps his shoulder. “First of all - _Captain_.” He pulls Leonard onto the pad with him. “And second, you and Khan are coming with me.”

“I am here, Captain,” says Spock, coming into the room. He looks between Leonard and Khan. Then to Jim he says, “-should you still need my assistance.”

“Sure do,” says Jim, smiling over at Leonard. “Scoot, Spock’s coming with us.”

“Goddamnit, Jim!” complains Leonard as they’re sent to the surface of what Jim has decided to call “Eclipta.”

\---

Jim pats Leonard on the shoulder, and before he can utter the words, Leonard shakes his head at him. “No, I’m not doing it.”

“Oh, come on, Bones.” He pulls him aside, giving Spock a reassuring wink. “I swear he’s not as bad as you think. He’s… _relaxed_ now.”

They both look over their shoulders at Spock who chooses to study the sky, rather than try to make conversation with Khan. Jim shrugs at Leonard. “Well, as relaxed as he can be.”

“The answer’s no. I’d feel more comfortable with Khan even.”

Jim straightens up, squaring his shoulders. “As your captain--”

“Don’t pull that with me, kid,” growls Leonard in a husky voice.

“--I order you to accompany Spock as you research this planet’s biology.”

“Dammit, Jim!” He points an accusing finger in his face. “See if I ever help you when you’re hungover again.”

Jim slumps at that, but nods, determined. “If that’s what it takes.”

 

\---

 

Leonard trails behind Spock, a dark scowl on his face the entire time. First, being dragged along without a protective suit, and now this: forced to repair his relationship with Spock – when they didn’t really speak much before anyway – on a planet called _Eclipta_. That isn’t foreboding in the least.

And Jim, the meddling infant, skipped off with Khan for who knows what reason, and refusing to bring an ensign as back-up in case Khan went AWOL on them. The crew is worried about Jim, but not nearly as much as Leonard and Spock who see firsthand the puppy eyes he has around Khan. The only thing stopping them from interfering is that Khan seems inclined to return his feelings.

But, see, even that isn’t severe enough of a problem for Leonard to throw out his discomfort around Spock. Especially since Spock keeps telling him things, and _smiling_. Smiling!

Leonard squints at Spock when he says over his shoulder, “Do you require rest, doctor? We may stop here if you please.” He faces Leonard, his hands folded behind his back. “My survey of the area has deemed it secure.”

“Has it?” grunts Leonard, his mouth twisting unhappily.

“Yes,” says Spock. And he smiles. One of those Spock-Mona-Lisa smiles that you can tell what it is if you’re looking for it. Not that Leonard is.

“Fine,” barks Leonard. “Let’s ‘rest’ here because I’m an old man, and I don’t like this place already.” He goes to sit down on a patch of grass, but Spock stops him, lifting him from the waist. He does it as if Leonard weighs nothing.

“I did not mean to offend. Nor did I mean we should sit here specifically.” He pulls Leonard over to a shaded area, where there’s a vine with trees for privacy. “It would be unwise to sit in the open if there are hostile beings in the vicinity.”

The only ‘hostile being’ around is Leonard, but he figures Spock can sense that from the frustration he’s projecting. Once again, he attempts to sit, and again Spock stops him, a hand on his waist to keep him from reaching the ground. He rights him, and reaches in the bag he has packed.

“I’ve brought a blanket you may use,” explains Spock, laying it flat on the sharp, green plants – after flattening them into submission with both palms. He does that mouth-twitch, smile thing, gesturing for Leonard to take a seat.

It’s almost romantic, except that when Leonard sits down, Spock falls right on top of him, instead of sitting next to him. His body is limp, heavy and very clearly unconscious.

“Spock?” asks Leonard, shaking him gently. “Spock, are you okay?” he taps his cheek, but no response. Not a twitch or sigh; no movement beyond the steady flow of his breath. “Spock!” shouts Leonard, “goddammit, this isn’t funny, man.”


	2. Juncture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things always get worse before they get better.

The first one to touch Spock in any way once he’s on his biobed is Leonard, as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead, for obvious reasons. Somewhere deep in his mind, he hears _I am all right, doctor_. And Leonard jumps back, almost dropping the tricorder to the floor in his surprise.

“Jim!” he shouts, “Get in here!”

Jim bursts through the door, looking at Leonard as he tries to catch his breath. “What’s wrong?”

“I heard him say something. But his vitals haven’t changed; there shouldn’t be any verbal function.” He frowns, squeezing the tricorder in his hand.

“What’d you do?” asks Jim, going around the side of the bed to stand across from Leonard.

“I was checking his forehead for fever. Sometimes I prefer the old fashioned way, because it feels more accurate to me.”

“So you touched him,” says Jim. “Do it again.” He crosses his arms.

“No, no. That was – that felt really…”

Jim sighs and places his hand on Spock’s forehead. _Hel – Ji – I – all - ght_

He blinks a few times down at the bed, then looks up at Leonard. “Well, that was weird.”

“You heard it?”

Jim makes a non-committal sound, shaking his hand side to side. “I heard some fragments.”

Leonard groans. “I heard a full sentence. Maybe he’s gotten worse since then.”

“I’ll get Uhura. They’ve known each other the longest, and language is mostly her department.”

“Yeah,” agrees Leonard, “if by thing you mean academic training.” He looks down at Spock, unmoving. More still than usual. “She’d want to hear this.”

 

\---

 

_Hel – Nyo – am – right._ She kisses Spock’s forehead, shaking her head at Leonard’s inquiring eyebrow. “I got fragments, like the captain did.” She smiles politely, taking his hand. “You should try again. You mean more to him than you think.”

Grumbling, Leonard says, “Fine. _Later.”_

“Now,” urges Uhura as she squeezes his palm in her grip.

“Ow, fine! Jesus, woman, where’d you learn to break men like that?”

Uhura chuckles, rubbing the back of his hand affectionately in apology. “Please. Just try again. He’s your priority for the moment. When another patient needs you, you can attend to them instead.”

“Yeah, all right. But if someone comes to me bleeding—”

“Doctor!”

Leonard waves her away. “Tell Jim I’ll be trying to wake up a stubborn Vulcan.”

 

\---

 

“Here goes nothing, you sappy hobgoblin,” Leonard tells the prone form, still as moonlight on the bed.

Taking in a deep breath, he reaches to place two fingers on Spock’s forehead. Then he remembers what that means, and uses his whole palm instead. Better to stick to a friendly touch for now; there’s a whole bag of consent issues Leonard doesn’t want to open up.

The sensation is instant: a tingle, like fireflies poking at his skull, and he hears the echo of a smooth, patient voice as it grows louder.

_I am here, doctor. Do not be afraid._

Leonard nearly jerks out of the connection; feeling vulnerable in the one place he can usually hide his insecurities, thoughts and secrets. But for Jim and Uhura, he holds on, pressing his skin firmer against Spock’s. Secure.

_What’s going on in there_ Leonard tries thinking back. There’s no answer, so he tries again, more aggressively. **_What’s—_**

_I heard you, doctor. I was simply contemplating a useful response to your question._

_I see that even in here you’re an annoying bastard._

_I have missed you as well_ thinks Spock, a flair of yellow zipping in between their minds.

_Happiness?_ Leonard thinks, forgetting that Spock can read everything that he projects. Another yellow beam of light.

_Yes. I am pleased you are here with me._

There’s no point denying he missed Spock, because he would see it’s a lie the moment he tried to say it. _Why do you think this happened?_

A dark fleck lands in their minds; it takes a few seconds for Leonard to realize it’s from him. And slightly longer for him to notice it represents his fear creeping up slowly like a spider on spindly legs.

_I believe it was those plants I was in contact with. Perhaps you can study them for an antidote._

_On it,_ thinks Leonard, loud and red – determination filling their heads like rosebuds on trees. He is about to pull away from their conversation when—

_Wait_ , says Spock.

_What is it? Is something wrong?_ Blue and black streams drip like wet paint down their words, in the creases of thoughts that Leonard can’t control. Worry and fear this time.

_I assure you, it would be obvious if I were in pain –_

_Don’t get snippy--_

A sizzle of yellow, wrapped in soft pink tickles at Leonard’s mind. He recognizes that feeling; had it for a short while with Jocelyn. _Love_ , it says. Spock loves him.

_Yes_ confirms Spock, _I will be waiting._

 

_*_

 

Finding an antidote is easier said than done. Leonard knows about human biology, and Vulcan, and any other inhabitant known to Starfleet (even some extras thanks to Jim introducing him during parties), but plants are another specialty. He doesn’t know the first thing about this planet’s biology because his studies came to a halt in the form of a large, male Vulcan falling on top of him. If he isn’t careful – especially since ‘home remedies’ aren’t his forte – he’ll be put in a coma, too. And it’s not like him to toot his own horn, but there’s no better doctor aboard the enterprise, really.

As expected, Jim suggests they use Khan’s blood – again – but Spock would never forgive Leonard if he had to follow his only known enemy around like a lovesick puppy like the rest of them. His only option is to risk getting infected, and seeing if him being fully human slows down the infection process; that he has more time to find a cure while he’s being poisoned.

 

\---

 

It’s as he’s suiting up that he spots Sulu coming back from the planet with that same monstrosity encapsulated. And he’s whistling, like it’s nothing.

“What are you doing with that?” rasps Leonard, trying to take it away from him.

Sulu dodges and puts it under his arm. “I’ve studied herbology almost my entire life. It’s a hobby.” He narrows his eyes at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Listen, Spock touched that and fell into a coma.”

“He probably touched the seeds accidentally. Nothing is poisonous as far as I can tell, except the pollen.”

Leonard grabs Sulu’s shoulders, staring into his eyes. “You need to help me find an antidote then. I’ll deal with the Vulcan technicalities if you deal with this –” He points to the plant. “-death trap waiting to happen.”

Sulu smiles, nodding. “Yes, doctor. It would be an honour.”

 

\---

 

During the next three days, Chekhov has to take over Sulu’s post, reporting back to him if anything seems abnormal, or if there’s any incoming objects (say, angry locals). But it only requires Chekhov a few hours per day; the rest he spends watching Sulu tinker and delicately handle the plant and its genetics, trying to find the solution.

Meanwhile, Leonard monitors Spock’s condition every minute of every hour, switching with Uhura and Jim when he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. On the third night, he sits by Spock’s bed, touching the inside of his wrist instead of his forehead. He wants to offer more comfort than usual.

Yellow sparkles so bright, Leonard feels like he would need to shut his eyes against it if they weren’t inside minds.

_Yeah, it’s me, Spock._

A flourish of pink encircles Spock’s next thought: _I have missed you._

_I spoke to you yesterday._ Orange bursts out from this thought, and he hopes it means something positive; he can’t even understand his own mind because of how deep they’ve gone.

_It is not quite the same, though I do appreciate your company this intimately._ A darker pink shimmers like stars in the dark of their minds’ eyes. It presses around Leonard like a blanket, offering comfort, warmth. Leonard holds it tightly.

_I thought it was better._ His mind shines blue, and he wishes his insecurities weren’t so boldly displayed, but he’s learned to ignore how bare it makes him feel.

Dark pink fits in between the streaks of blue, devouring them, caressing them until they fade into a lighter shade. For someone with so little physical emotion, he’s surprisingly good at consoling Leonard.

_In some ways; however I enjoy the ‘drawl’ you’ve acquired from your Georgian hometown, and I cannot hear it in your thoughts._

Leonard rubs his fingers against Spock’s wrist, savouring the shiver he gets – sees as yellow and pink ribbons – in reply. _I miss you too._

 

*

 

Uhura strokes Leonard’s hair from his face as he slowly blinks awake. She kneels down next to him, whispering, “Sulu said he’s probably going to find a cure today.”

“A-are you sure?” asks Leonard, rubbing at his eyes roughly. “I mean, that’s great.” It’s not like he could hold on to their bond forever; hiding in it with Spock, sharing intimate thoughts and seeking comfort in the safety of their minds. He just – wanted to hide away a bit longer. Maybe.

Rubbing his knee, Uhura tilts her head. “Why don’t you seem happy?”

“It’s, uh, nothing. Don’t worry. I’ll get my side of the antidote ready.” He smiles at her, getting up and out of the chair, his knees feeling wobbly.

There’s something about this morning, how he’s sleeping in the chair that makes him think he fell asleep inside their connection. They were probably touching for a few hours before Spock turned it off.

She watches him go, a small smile on her lips, as she leans over Spock. She kisses him on the forehead. She tells him, “He’s finally accepted it, Spock. I’m happy for you.”

 

\---

 

After they’ve come to an agreement with how to proceed with the antidote, Leonard attaches it to an IV and sits next to Spock, waiting. An hour passes, two, three, five. Jim brings him a turkey sandwich and a replicated glass of whiskey. A few more hours pass with Leonard too worried to slip into their safe place. If he goes in and Spock dies, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. But if he doesn’t get those last moments either…

Another two hours, and Uhura walks in with a blanket in her hands. “Here, to keep you warm.”

“You don’t want to stay for a while?” asks Leonard, pointing towards the chair on Spock’s opposite side.

She shakes her head. “I’ll see him when he wakes up.”

Leonard wants to ask how she can be sure; how she has so much faith in him and Sulu; or perhaps it’s in Spock’s stubbornness. His ability to survive, time and time again, no matter the odds against him. He’s resilient, is what he is.

He wraps the blanket around his shoulders, scooting forward until his knees bump the side of the biobed. He whispers, “Listen, Spock, if I go in there, promise –” He swallows, rubbing his forehead. “Promise you’ll wake up. That you won’t leave me here after all this.”

A few seconds tick by as Leonard nods down at his unmoving form. “Okay then.”

Slowly, Leonard leans forward, taking hold of Spock’s hand with one palm, and covering it with his other hand. The warmth of it soothes his anxiety, but the fact that Spock doesn’t speak up right away frightens him.

_Doctor?_

_I think you should feel comfortable enough to call me Leonard now._

_I find that agreeable – Leonard._

A bright yellow surges from his side, and its nearly blinding _Wow I don’t know why that—_

_Because you realize now how strong our bond has become_ red ribbons tangle around the yellow, streaking it until it meshes into a flawless canvas. _I am glad you have not lost hope._

_Uhura helped with that._

_She is a very strong woman_ and Leonard can feel the twinge of a smile although he’d never really see it outside of this link.

_I like her_ the thought pops in uninvited, unanticipated; and it leads him to a flurry of other thoughts _why did you break up was she not good enough did you already like me then how I can compete with her why choose me whywhywhy_ and he can’t stop the flow, even when he struggles to push it back and send pleasant things towards Spock – he is fighting for his life after all.

But Spock’s mood hasn’t shifted; gentle red and yellow continue to bloom and shimmer, forming psychedelic patterns and shapes. _I have chosen you, Leonard, do not belittle yourself. You are the one I am meant to be with._

_That sounds an awful lot like a proposal._

An orange hue lolls about, playfully. _It can become so in the future._

_You’re serious?_ Red shoots deep from within his psyche, reaching out for Spock’s.

And Spock answers in kind; touching the red, and pressing it tight, close. Yellow flickering in the cracks of the red as it squeezes, tucks them both in together, keeps them connected at every point possible, until Leonard can’t tell where his emotions begin and Spock’s end.

They’re just a shamble of feelings, vastly positive and intense. So much that Leonard drops out of their bond before he can answer whether he wants marriage too or not.

Leonard's breathing as hard as if he just chased after Jim to stick a hypo in his neck, his hands stroking softly up and down Spock’s hand, dipping in the cleft of his wrist, warming it all with the heat of his own skin.

Leonard releases a drawn-out hum of pleasure. Spock’s hand squeezes against the touch, not pulling away. Leonard rubs more affectionately, switching to two fingers, caressing in any way he can manage without having to move closer. Spock’s eyes flutter, and he gazes at the ceiling for a moment before his eyes land on Leonard next to him. The flush that creeps up his cheeks is beautiful, elegant even. As a Vulcan, he somehow makes everything that would look awkward on most people appear charming; Leonard can’t tear his eyes from the faint green shade.

“Hello, Leonard,” croaks Spock, his voice roughened from lack of use.

“Spock,” he says back, holding his hand tighter in his grip.

“I’ve awoken,” says Spock, trying to sit up on the biobed without letting their hands go.

Leonard laughs like he’s fifteen again: all blushing and giddy. Pleased that someone likes him back as much as he likes them. He lets his forehead fall to Spock’s wrist, and places a kiss there as he looks up. “I’m glad you did.”

 

*

 

Spock sleeps more that night, even though Jim jokes that he shouldn’t need to after being in a coma for a week. After Sulu, Uhura and Jim take turns visiting him in the morning – Leonard never staying far away – it’s finally his chance to speak to Spock in three dimensions.

When he enters the room to find Spock looking at his inbox on a PADD, he can’t help but cluck his tongue. “Not even outta bed yet and you can’t wait to get back to work.”

“I was simply analyzing the equation you and Sulu implemented—”

“Like I said,” grouches Leonard, but his smile spreads to both sides of his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Aside from the slight drowsiness caused by the antidote, I am adequate.” He puts down his PADD, sitting up in bed. “I wanted to thank you, doctor.”

“Why’re you going back to doctor? I said Leonard was better,” he says, taking a seat at Spock’s side. Spock doesn’t smile – that Mona Lisa twitch of his – or make eye contact. Leonard lowers his voice to ask, “Is something wrong?”

“I assure you I am fine,” says Spock, glancing away from Leonard. “But I do need additional rest. If that is acceptable.”

“Yeah, sure,” says Leonard, leaning on his knees to get out of the chair. “I’ll, uh, be around my office if you need me.”

“Thank you,” says Spock, eyes focused on his PADD as he takes it back in hand.

 

*

 

“I don’t get it,” grumbles Leonard, taking the glass Jim hands him. He’s consciously avoiding the pairs – plural – of underwear badly hidden beneath the bed. Khan and Jim have gotten a lot friendlier this past week. “First he proposes to me in a mindmeld-ish way, and then he can’t even look me in the eye as he thanks me.”

Jim walks towards the kitchen table, kicking the underwear further below his bed as he passes by. He rolls his eyes at Leonard’s raised eyebrow. “Look, I don’t judge you for making googoo eyes with your polar opposite.”

“Spock never tried to kill me,” corrects Leonard, knocking back the artificial whiskey. It’s like water at this point; he and Jim have been drinking for a good hour already.

“Whatever. The point is I don’t give you disapproving looks, Bones. You’re my best friend, act like it.” Jim plops down on his seat, having somehow carried a tray of replicated tequila shots without tripping once.

“Fine,” grits Leonard, “just – tell me how I’m supposed to take this.” He steals one of the shots, bypassing the lemon slices Jim prepared. “I mean, you heard that letter he wrote me.”

Jim nods thoughtfully, shutting one eye, then the next. “I don’t remember replicated alcohol being this potent,” he coughs.

“Jim,” chides Leonard, swatting at his elbow.

“Sorry. Um, maybe it’s the whole coma thing. The plant might have scrambled his brain.” Jim chuckles, banging his fist down on the table. “Hey, you could almost still tell I was smart for a second there.”

“Yeah, sure,” says Leonard, downing two more shots. “Let’s drink s’more. Make that big brain of yours turn off for a bit. I’ll give you a hypo in the morning.”

“That’s my Bones!” exclaims Jim, clapping his hands.

 

*

 

At four in the morning, Leonard is awoken by the sound of lips smacking and squeaking springs. At some point, he and Jim tumbled into bed – just like they did at the academy, never sexually, just a lazy understanding – but Khan must have followed.

For a brief, mind-numbing moment, Leonard thinks he’s naked, until he feels the hairless leg properly and realizes it’s Jim’s. He has one thrown across Leonard, and the other tangled with Khan’s as they kiss and rut like horny kids.

Leonard groans in disgust – which is shocking since not two weeks ago he would have leapt at the chance to touch Khan in this way – and falls on his face when Jim’s deadweight leg won’t budge enough for him to slide gracefully out of bed. He throws a hypo at Jim’s chest, and drags his feet as he makes his way back to his own quarters for some private rest.

 

\---

 

Sometime later, he’s startled awake by the sound of his alarm chiming underneath his cheek and ear – where his pillow should be. With some blind patting, he finds his pillow beneath his thankfully bare feet, and his head at the foot of his bed. It’s lucky he thought to set his alarm last night before he started trying to outdo the alcohol intake Jim’s so famous for.

It’s with crusty eyes and heavy legs that he makes his way to a nice sonic shower. But – nails would be more acceptable than the pelting he gets as he tries to remember his function aboard this ship, and whether he was drunk out of his gourd when he signed up for Starfleet. (The mind’s a grotto of surprisingly poetic thoughts.)

Somewhere between five and thirty minutes later, Leonard reaches his office and sighs in relief as Carol scoops up his pile of paperwork with a spectacular smile. He’s blinking slowly, his eyes barely staying open, as he says, “You’re a real life saver, you know that?”

“I’ll collect my payment in the form of perfume in the near future,” she teases, quietly exiting his office as to not aggravate his headache.

Since Sulu hasn’t been paying attention to anything but the plants on Eclipta – and Leonard hasn’t had time to explore it again himself – he reviews the flora data that’s available. His eyes flutter with each monotone, unlyrical sentence he reads. Then, Leonard passes out. He wakes to the sound of his desk chiming with an incoming message; Jim sends him an obnoxious photo of him winking, and Khan casually getting dressed in the background. _At least he was nice enough to wait until Khan had pants on to take it,_ thinks Leonard.

At lunch time, Leonard goes to the cafeteria feeling mildly better – the crick in his neck notwithstanding. Once there, seeing Spock in line for a vegetarian meal, he’s reminded of why he drank himself into a stupor; why he decided against the hypo he had prepared to combat the hangover; why it was so much better when he and Spock didn’t communicate for more than five minutes at a time.

Leonard sits at the table that they’ve shared multiple times, and waits, watching Spock with a hopeful smile. Not only does Spock pointedly look away, but he glances at anyone else he can – including Khan who struts in with Jim giddily trailing behind him, lovesick – but he sits at a table far in the back, reserved for the engineering crew who barely shower (but who are too valuable to fire).

_That is it_ , thinks Leonard. His blood boils faster than if he’d just landed on the surface of the sun.

 

*

 

Although Leonard was unsure at first whether Spock was genuine about his feelings – which, after the fact, seems ridiculous; he’s Vulcan – it’s obvious now he returns them, and he’s unwilling to simply let all that connection slip away. He needs someone like Spock to keep him sane, and Spock needs him to understand when he’s being a callous prick. They’re quite a pair, when you think about it.

Cornering Spock is almost as difficult as getting Jim to cooperate during a medical exam; however, Uhura is nice enough to give subtle hint as Leonard runs past her, breathing heavy. Khan is evidently less subtle: “I saw him pass by your medbay a moment ago.”

Sulu and Chekhov are too busy spying on the planet from the safety of the Enterprise to notice a fleeing Vulcan, whereas Scotty wipes grease from his forehead and makes deals. “Te’ you wha’, gimme some of your bourbon, and I’ll point you tae his exact location.”

 

\---

 

Spock is hiding in the captain’s quarters, having (correctly) assumed Leonard wouldn’t consider he’d go there. Leonard knows Jim’s code because he helped him choose it, so he gets in easily. Spock is seated, legs folded beneath him, and his palms flat against the ground. His skin is shining, he’s breathing harder than normal, and the green flush Leonard found so charming is now stretching all the way down his throat.

“Doctor,” says Spock, short of breath and blunt nails digging into the floor.

“Don’t you ‘doctor’ me,” snaps Leonard, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere and you’re damn well going to tell me why our honeymoon is over before we even got married!”

He goes from pointing an accusing finger in the entrance to being pushed onto the floor, beneath Spock, unable to wiggle free.

Shaking his head, Spock’s grip on Leonard’s shoulders loosens. “Please remain calm…Leonard.”

“That’s more like it,” says Leonard, trying to push up and kiss Spock.

Spock turns his face, and Leonard’s lips connect with a burning, green heat; way beyond the norm caused by exertion or embarrassment. He presses a hand to Spock’s temple, getting a scrape of sound so sharp he pants when his hands are yanked away.

“What’s going on, Spock?” he asks softly, obediently keeping both hands at his sides.

Spock slithers away from Leonard, his body seemingly fighting himself as he goes. After a long, drawn-out breath, he returns to his initial position: cross-legged, eyes shut, with his palms to the floor.

“I am incapable of speaking of it for the moment,” he murmurs, “please leave.”

Leonard sits up in a smooth motion, trying not to disrupt Spock’s peace, or whatever he’s concentrating on as his shoulder’s tremble. “Okay,” he agrees, standing. “But you’re telling me tomorrow.”

“Good night,” says Spock, pressing his palms together, breathing deeply. “Rest well.”

 

*

 

As true to his word as he’s ever been, Spock meets Leonard in his quarters before he has to leave for research on the biology of Eclipta’s surface. They take a seat at his small, circular table, facing each other. Spock keeps his hands in his lap as Leonard carefully, patiently watches him; neither of them speak for at least a minute.

Finally, Leonard gets up for a drink. “Are you just not interested in me anymore?” he says, as sharp as the sting of rejection he’s been feeling lately.

Spock clears his throat, his voice resounding from right behind Leonard. His hand touches Leonard’s shoulder, shaking once again. “It is my Time,” he says, solemn. “Do not think my avoidance due to anything you have done.”

Snorting out a laugh, Leonard says, “That sounds like ‘it’s not you, it’s me’.”

“But it is not your fault –”

Leonard turns fast, facing Spock, a twist to his mouth. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I am Vulcan, and therefore cannot lie,” says Spock, cold as ever, but his voice falters when Leonard groans. “I – I am experiencing a difficult period, and I do not want to burden you with the effects.”

It’s not his smartest move to step forward, into Spock’s personal space, but Leonard isn’t thinking clearly right now. He’s hurt, and he’s frustrated, and he really just wants to kiss and be with this green-blooded hobgoblin already. “You better explain yourself better than that. I’m a doctor, not a mind reader!”

The raise of voice seems to strike Spock like lightning; he freezes then shifts closer, grabbing hold of both Leonard’s wrists, pinning them to the countertop. He stares at Leonard, his face a dark green, panting with his lips wet from having licked them. With a deep breath, and a brief shutting of his eyes, Spock lets Leonard go.

Leonard rubs his wrists. “I don’t understand what’s going on, Spock. Tell me something I can work with.”

Spock looks away, sighing. “You will not be pleased.”

“I’m already irritated. Give it to me, damnit,” grits Leonard, keeping his voice low enough to avoid another bondage moment.

“It is my Time…to find a mate,” admits Spock, turning his back to Leonard. He returns to the table and sits in his previous spot, his shoulders hunched. “I do not want to subject you to submission when your character suggests you prefer dominance.”

Walking toward the table, he faces Spock. “You think I won’t let you take control?” He tips Spock’s head up to force him into eye contact. “Is that what all this is about?”

“I cannot control my behaviour, as you have no doubt noticed,” explains Spock, gently touching Leonard’s hand to pull it away. “I will be aggressive, uncharacteristically so. And if you fight me, it will become worse.”

Leonard sits down, slumping in his chair. “You’re worried you’ll hurt me,” he whispers.

“Precisely,” says Spock, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. “In a few more days, it will take over completely, and I will no longer be in charge of my actions.”

A moment of silence passes between them as Leonard takes this all in. Spock is going into ‘heat’ more or less, and he wants Leonard as his mate – his life partner – but it’s too dangerous; or he’s too afraid of what could happen. He has no proof that any of the bad things he’s imagining will happen. It’s flattering, sure, but Leonard is a grown man. A divorced man. A father. He’s been through pain and suffering, and agony, and it’s much worse that Spock chooses to avoid him. Besides, if they can finally have sex during Spock’s “time” well, that’s a definite plus.

Outstretching a hand, palm open for Spock to take, Leonard says, “Let’s do this together.”

Spock doesn’t take Leonard’s hand; he stands, straightening his uniform. “I have chosen my path. I shall let the heat take me, and spare you of any violence that may occur.” He bows his head politely, and leaves Leonard’s quarters.

After sitting for a moment in disbelief, Leonard exhales with a growl and throws everything atop the table onto the floor with a sweep of his hands.

 

*

 

On Eclipta, without any suit or equipment, Leonard stomps and shouts and tramples through, wishing he could smother Spock with a pillow if he’s so adamant about throwing his whole precious life away just to save his. His screwed up, imperfect, quickly fleeting life that isn’t going to be worth half of Spock’s in history books.

He picks plants with a gloved hand at first, then anger sets in and he pulls them out with force and bare palms. If he falls into a coma, too, maybe Spock will stop being so stubborn about this whole business.

As he’s kicking aside a rock, Khan walks towards him. For a second, he considers dragging him over to a dark corner and fucking his brains out just to spite Spock. But just a second. The consequences alone (the guilt, the regret) aren’t enough to make him want to go through with it. He’s just so tired of being tugged from one side to the next and then discarded like a ragdoll.

Khan stands in front of Leonard to get his attention, as if he needs to with his soldier posture. “Doctor,” he says, “I’ve heard a rumour of Spock’s possible demise.” He turns away, and Leonard follows his gaze to find Jim waving an arm at him. So he put him up this.

“Yeah, and? You want to give me your condolences before he’s even dead?” snaps Leonard, crossing his arms, crushing half the plants in the process.

With an eye-roll, Khan continues, “No, doctor. I have discovered a planet in my time period that may be of use to your Vulcan.” His tone isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s not as biting as it could be. “If he is willing, Jim said we shall go there to prevent his untimely death.”

“Jim trusts your judgment,” says Leonard with a disbelieving eyebrow raise.

Khan nods, crossing his arms to mirror Leonard. “Regardless whether you do as well, this is the only chance Spock has.”

“I don’t like the way you say that,” grits Leonard, stepping closer to Khan. “Reminds me of that same threat you gave him when we were trying to save Jim.”

Khan looks to Jim, then sighs as he turns back. “I am simply trying to help as your captain has helped me.”

“Yeah, I bet he helped you,” mutters Leonard, cutting his eyes at Jim. Jim shrugs a shoulder, and Leonard sees Khan’s eyes trace down his body from the corner of his eye. “I don’t think Spock would take too kindly to you checking me out when he’s like this.”

“I am merely admiring your aesthetic charm,” says Khan, smirking. “But we should leave quickly for Eranthis if we intend to save Spock’s life.”

“Yeah,” agrees Leonard. “I’ll go…convince him.”

 

*

Leonard doesn’t waste time finding Spock. He goes straight to his quarters, and asks Jim for the code to get in. “Will you please consider it--” he whispers, having crept up and hugged him from behind. Maybe Spock doesn’t welcome the contact, but he does. “—for someone who was about to die, too?” he says, softer.

Spock is stock-still on his mad, cross-legged, eyes shut. The only indication that he’s awake is that his breathing gets faster, unsteady. He breathes out slowly, moving Leonard’s arms from around his torso. “I will consider it for you,” he says, going back to his original meditation position.

“Thank you,” murmurs Leonard, his voice wavering slightly. He leaves silently and quickly; not wanting to disrupt Spock’s delicate balance with his outpouring of emotion.

 

\---

 

**Eranthis**

 

The planet is a little known one: red like Vulcan, but slightly less warm. It’s like a home away from home for Spock, and Leonard doesn’t know how Khan discovered it, but he could kiss him. If Jim wasn’t busy doing that already (while pretending they’re just discussing the past).

It’s technically not part of Starfleet, a neutral party like Switzerland on Earth, but that doesn’t matter; they’re not there as officials. This is all about Spock’s life. The moment Spock steps out of the Enterprise and into that similar, dry heat, he seems to cool down right away. As backwards as that sounds. Leonard follows behind him as his doctor, but also as a friend and someone who cares a great deal about his health.

Spock turns to Leonard, the green flush receding bit by bit. “Thank you, Leonard.”

Leonard spreads his arms, raising a brow. “Can I?”

“Yes,” says Spock with that familiar lip-twitch.

He hugs him as soon as he hears the last sound of the word, overwhelmed by how much he needs Spock to get better; how he can’t imagine Jim’s reaction if he’d let himself die, and Leonard had failed to convince him. (Jim probably would just shove Spock off the ship against his will, though, the stubborn bastard.)

They walk along the planet’s surface, coming across a few inhabitants who flock in to see them. Luckily, they’ve thought to remove their uniforms beforehand, or they might not have been so gracious.

The people are kind and knowledgeable about other planets; giving Spock their condolences over the destruction of Vulcan. They have reddish skin, ebony eyes and intricate, white markings that change with each person.

One of them, a beautiful, young woman, tells Spock, “You are welcome to make our planet your new home. I am aware most of you live on New Vulcan now, but ours can be shared as well.”

Spock looks, to Leonard who has learned his expressions well over these past few weeks, _touched_. He bows his head to her. “Thank you. I will tell my elders of this fascinating planet.”

 

\---

 

Things are going well enough with the friendly locals that they offer them rooms. Two: one of which Jim and Khan claim before Leonard can even explain the risks of him and Spock sharing a room when his state of mind is still so fragile. By the time they shut the door in his face, they’re already moaning against it. Leonard backs away, pleading with Spock to ask for a different room, far enough not to hear this ruckus. It might trigger Spock’s Time again; it might influence Leonard into making a move on Spock. He can’t be blamed for wanting him; he’s only human.

They end up across a field, close enough to still see where Jim is, but far enough away to enjoy the silence of this planet. It’s more of a hut than a room, but once Zphrea took one look at Spock, and realized he is part Vulcan, she wanted to give as much accommodating space as she could (for the “handsome lovers”).

In the hut, there’s one large bed, a bathroom with fantastic, clear green water and a table that’s more organic than any piece of furniture Leonard has seen. It’s a tree stump that grows from through the floor, trimmed down and polished to make it easier to use. It’s low to the ground, so much in fact that Spock takes out a mat and sits directly in front of it. He offers Leonard one as well.

“Thanks,” he says, looking around. “This is kinda nice.”

Spock nods, his arms limp in his lap. He closes his eyes, murmuring, “I am sorry if my previous decision hurt you.”

“It’s fine now,” says Leonard. “We’re okay. This planet can keep you somewhat lucid since it’s like yours. I’m okay with this.” He places a hand on the table in front of Spock, between them. “Can we touch?”

“I am not certain that would be wise,” says Spock, his eyes drifting open slowly. Leonard starts moving away, and Spock reaches for his hand. “But I have no qualms with attempting it.”

The moment, the _second_ , their open palms make contact, Leonard is struck with images of himself panting, sweating, and moaning Spock’s name. Upside down, on his stomach, on his back, against walls and floors and outdoors, with Spock looming at each turn, groaning out noises that are more animal than any beast Leonard has encountered.

Spock pulls away from their connection first; his green flush is back, and there’s a bead of sweat between his brows. “I require a moment,” he says, breathing hard, “to regain control of my thoughts.”

Leonard stands when Spock does, pulling him in an embrace that feels better than any of those images he saw. They were just thoughts. Just a fiction that hasn’t happened. He tells Spock that, holding him tighter, “We’re in this together, Spock. I trust you.”

Hands reach up and press into Leonard’s back, squeezing and tearing at threads with his fingers. Leonard keeps hold of him, shifting closer. “I want this,” he says, I want you to take me.” He rests his lips to Spock’s pointed ear, saying, “I love you, Spock.”

Spock pushes Leonard down against the tree stump-table, using only one of his arms. “I cannot guarantee your safety.” He’s grinding his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m a doctor,” he chuckles while kissing Spock’s cheek. “I can fix the damage later.”

Spock growls, baring his teeth as he leans forward. He starts to nuzzle the side of Leonard’s face, lips trailing slick against his pulse and down to his collarbones. He dips his head, leaving a shiny trail with his tongue across Adam’s apple and in the hollow of his throat. Leonard keens and moans as though he’s falling out of an orgasm, offering his neck to Spock, digging his blunt nails into his back. “Have me,” he says, breathless. “Come on, Spock. I’ve been ready for weeks.”

Spock pulls back, glancing at Leonard’s lips that are bitten through and swelling. Clarity creeps into his dark eyes; the effects of his Time lessening as he takes in the man beneath him.

“Leonard, you must know,” he says, “that this will bind me to you in a permanence stronger than marriage.” He kisses Leonard, tugging on his mouth with his lips. “No one will ever have my heart as deeply as you. My life will be devoted to you alone.” Leonard’s eyes fall shut, his hands moving down Spock’s back. Spock takes one of Leonard’s wrists, stroking it. “When you die, I will not find another. Nor will I look. My mind will continue to seek yours.”

With a flick of his thumb, Spock wipes the tear welling in one of Leonard’s eyes. “Does that sadden you?

“No, you idiot,” says Leonard, his eyes watering. He smiles crookedly. “It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Leonard pulls him in closer, resting his face in the crook of his shoulder. “I love you more than that,” he whispers. They don’t move from the table, Leonard braced against it with his legs around Spock’s waist. He watches him for what feels like millennia before curling three fingers.

“I would like to meld with you then,” says Spock, his fingers hovering above Leonard’s face. “It is custom for mates to—”

Leonard forces his hand to make contact, his eyes shutting. “ _Yes_ ,” he moans.

Inside and out, Leonard’s burning. Spock’s Time is much hotter than he imagined; hotter than the surface of this planet, and surprisingly like a sun about to devour a solar system around it. He pants and he hears it, through his own ears and through Spock’s that work twice as well. With the first touch – a gentle slide of Spock’s hand down Leonard’s chest – he feels like he’s about to come already. Spock senses it, feels it, and soothes him with the orange and red flecks that he’s always carried along in his mind.

It should be embarrassing for Leonard to be so uncontrollably filled with lust when Spock is the one going through Pon Farr, a heat so strong he’s afraid to hurt the man he loves. When that thought travels through their link, Spock’s body jolts and he seems to fling into action. Whatever Leonard feels, he does too; he reacts with his baser needs than his usual logic. Maybe that’s why it’s so appealing to Leonard: he’s just feeling, not calculating his next move.

Which is why Leonard ends up naked as soon as Spock moves back and tears his shirt and pants off. The underwear get hooked at his ankles, and he presses back in, rubbing his clothed erection between Leonard’s thighs, pressing it firm to his own hard length.

They pant the same, but not. Leonard’s gets higher, needier; Spock’s gets more possessive, wilder. He tears at his own pants, forgets to bother with his shirt, but Leonard doesn’t care because he grips the cotton tight in his hands, holding on as Spock thrusts between his legs, just the slick of pre-come easing the slide of their cocks.

The table-stump nearly gets uprooted with the fierceness of Spock’s thrusts, but Leonard can’t even begin to form words beyond: “Yes, yes, fuck. I need more. Give me more.” That’s not what comes out of his mouth, though; instead it’s a jumble of sounds, that luckily for Spock, he can decipher thanks to the mindmeld.

Spock picks Leonard up with one arm and throws him down on the bed, pinning his arms above his head. _I cannot stop._

But the flecks of red are stuck to his words like incense smoke, and Leonard heaves it in, moaning louder as Spock spreads his thighs and presses in with an oil he didn’t even see Spock pick up. Maybe that’s why he carried Leonard with one arm.

_I don’t want you to,_ Leonard sends back, panting against Spock’s mouth as they kiss while Spock pushes his fingers deeper into Leonard.

Spock roars, like he’s caught fire, and Leonard sees the image of what’s to come before he feels the stiff cock pushing in, and his legs being thrown over Spock’s shoulders. He’s folded in a way that’s going to hurt in the morning, but he’s in this now. They’re in this together; and the tight heat of himself gets transferred through the bond, along with the feel of fingers gripping his length, oiling it up, and stroking so fast he has only a second to touch Spock and think _I’m coming._

But it’s not over, not like that. Spock fucks him folded in half, breathing each rugged sound against Leonard’s lips caught between his teeth. He pries his mouth open with one hand, sliding his fingers in, and Leonard sucks automatically. He sucks because he wants to feel something against his tongue; because he knows how meticulous Spock is about his hands; how sensitive they are, and what this means.

This isn’t making love, this is fucking; it’s rough and dizzying, and Spock growls when Leonard wraps his tongue around two digits and sucks as if it’s a hard cock. He spills inside of Leonard, a blinding white seeping into the bond, dabbled with red as always. Even in the midst of ecstasy, all he has for Leonard is love.

“That was great,” croaks Leonard, pressing his forehead to Spock’s. “Can you put my legs down now?”

Spock nods, moving them around his waist and holding the sides of his face. “That was enjoyable, yes.” He kisses Leonard once, then again, then a third time longer, tasting the inside of his mouth, where his fingers had been, sucking at each wet gasp as Leonard feels himself stirring. “In approximately ten minutes, my Time will take over again. I recommend you drink water before then.”

Leonard thinks it’s a joke, so he laughs.

How wrong he is.

In fact, it takes less time than that. He’s mid-way through a gulp, still naked with semen leaking out of his hole, when Spock grabs him and pushes him down face-first on the bed. The bedframe rattles as he leaps on top of Leonard like some kind of caveman, gnawing down his spine where sweat was beginning to cool in salty lines. He pushes his hips up, enough to get his hand underneath and squeeze his cock. _Not ready yet._ Leonard hears through the meld.

_I could have told you,_ thinks Leonard, as Spock continues to fondle his balls, tugging at his length until the blood rushes to it, filling it up, making it harder than it was the first time. His breath is warm on his ass, his face pressed to Leonard’s cheeks, and he sniffs a couple of times. _That tickles – oh fuckmeeee._

Spock’s tongue is expertly pulling him apart, lapping at the come sliding down the backs of his thighs, darting in like a rush of wet glorious friction, tickling him inside and forcing him open. He’s spreading his legs wider, trying to get it deeper inside, wanting to be pushed to the brink again, but Spock stops and puts his tongue flat, licking in circles around the rim. He’s cleaning him, Leonard realizes, moaning in spite of how non-sexy that is.

_I will begin,_ rings through Leonard’s thoughts as he’s shifted into place, on all fours, and pushed into with a direct thrust that slams against his prostate. He’s crying out because of it: in his mind, he feels like red is exploding all around him, tickling against every nerve ending that matters, while on the outside he just wants it fuckin’ _harder_ , rougher. He wants to feel this for days and then some.

_Please,_ he’s begging, _I know you can hear this, I’m so close, fuck me like you mean it, Spock!_

A sharp thrust punctuated by the thought _I indeed mean it_ another deep thrust that nearly lifts Leonard off the bed, even as he clutches the blankets to keep his body steady. _I merely want you to survive this._

_Oh, fuck,_ Leonard screams at the top of his lungs – inside and out. Because Spock doesn’t let up on his prostate, and his oily hand is still cupping Leonard’s balls, keeping him from coming just yet, tugging on them when they jerk up towards his stomach. He moves from there, up to his cock, tracing the veins like a pattern, circling the head that he squeezes in a tight grip. He tells Leonard to _utilize my hand_ which Leonard then translates to _fuck my hand_ , and gladly obliges. A fiery red slips through their connection, making Leonard’s skin burn up as he’s slammed into, his cock sliding in Spock’s perfect, slicked grip, both of them louder and louder as the seconds tick by.

He’s first to release with a “God _damn_ , man,” and Spock growls out words in Vulcan as he spills for the second time inside of Leonard, pulling out to rub the remnants against his now puffy hole.

 

\---

 

It’s barely a half hour later, when Leonard is dragged out of the toilet where he’s splashing water on his face and pushed down against the carpeted floor, lifted half off the ground as Spock pistons into him like he can’t help himself – which, obviously, he can’t.

But somewhere deep underneath that growl, and the feral look in Spock’s eyes, he still sends waves of love and affection towards Leonard in their meld; he kisses his back and his thighs as he rams into him, watching his hands grip at chunks of the carpet to hold on.

Leonard wanted this, he did. He just didn’t know how old his body has gotten in the last few years. Probably has something to do with nearly dying from a poison on a foreign planet.

 

\---

 

If anyone asks Leonard’s advice, which they don’t even though he gives the best advice, he would tell them: don’t mate with a green-blooded hobgoblin. Because even though it’s the best sex he’s had in at least a decade, and his cock spurts now within five of Spock’s perfectly handle strokes and a few prods to his prostate, his back and his knees are aching, and he kind of wants to die in the near future.

Something about that train of thought gets through the link, and Spock moves from fucking Leonard against the wall, to back down on the comfortable bed – even though he ends up lying in a wet spot. Though, it’s all a giant wet spot now, and he’s drenched in Spock’s come anyway.

It slides down his stomach, it gathers in the few hairs between his ass cheeks, it’s collecting along his pecks and around his throat when he took Spock in his mouth and got his face fucked for his efforts. Speaking of which: this sexual deviant of a Vulcan better return the favour.

_You may use my mouth in the next round,_ Spock thinks eloquently, though his pained expression remains as he impales Leonard on his cock, pushing between his thighs, and leaving no time to even breathe between thrusts.

_Fan-fucking-tastic,_ Leonard thinks back at him; Spock covers him in come for the umpteenth time that night.

 

\---

After a few more rounds of Leonard trying to drink, eat and use the toilet, he passes out. But that doesn’t stop Spock from rubbing his cock in the cleft of his ass, or against his stomach, on the roughest part of his stubble (he hasn’t shaved in a while). When he wakes up after a two or three hour nap – it’s hard to keep track of time when you’re on a strange planet with your ‘mate’ using you like a sex doll – Spock is finally asleep. Perhaps even close to sated sexually.

All he has that isn’t covered in semen or ripped apart is an orange robe that he slides around himself after pushing into some wood-based sandals. He treks that short way across the field, into Jim & Khan territory. It’s a dangerous place to go, but he keeps his ears open for moans – not that they could compete with a Vulcan in heat.

Inside the building, he crosses paths with Uhura who smiles kisses his cheek, Chekhov who’s listening to Sulu’s every word as they make their way outside to the field, and Scotty whose r’s are sounding especially rounded as he slurs and chugs on the local spirits.

They nod and smile and chat a bit, but he heads towards Jim’s room afterward. If anyone can understand being overstuffed with sex, it’s him. He might have some pointers for an energy boost or something.

He raps softly on Jim’s door, despite not having heard any panting from where he stands. His hand is an inch away, seconds from knocking again when Jim swings the door open. He leaves it cracked, just enough for his chest and head to peek out.

“Hey, Bones. What can I do you for?” he says.

“I, uh, wanted to talk to you. About Spock and his…you know,” says Leonard, too curious not to try and see over Jim’s shoulder. “Are you busy?” what he really means is ‘are you in the middle of getting fucked by Khan?’

“Nah, no.” He opens the door, moving aside. “Come on in.”

Leonard doesn’t miss the fact that all he’s using to cover his manhood is a sheet that’s been stripped from the bed – which is hanging off of the frame, ready to slide at any sudden moment. Khan isn’t around, though, so that encourages him to step inside.

The door shuts behind him and he doesn’t see Jim’s hand move; he knows exactly who it is before the rumbling voice reaches his ears. “Hello, doctor. So glad to see you again.”

His skin tingles, but not in a good way; not how it had what feels like a century ago. “Hi,” he grumbles back. Without turning his head, he knows the asshole is grinning. Jim’s furrowed brows confirm it.

“I was hoping to speak to you alone,” says Leonard, jerking his head back at where Khan is pressed to the door. “Not that I don’t like mass murderers and all,” he says, giving Khan a tight smile.

“I’m certain you do,” says Khan, walking past Leonard and curling himself around Jim. “But I cannot part with the captain. That is our arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” asks Leonard, crossing his arms. He looks to Jim for the answer.

“I kind of said I would have as much sex with Khan as he wanted while we’re here,” he says, shrugging. “Sounded good at the time.”

“Lemme guess,” deadpans Leonard, “before you realized how quick his refractory period was.”

“Yeah, how’d you – _oh_ ,” says Jim, wincing. “That bad, huh? Sorry, Bones.”

Leonard sighs, waving a hand to dismiss the worry. “It’s not that bad. He’s sleeping now. Maybe I should take another nap while I can.”

“Splendid,” says Khan, mouthing at the side of Jim’s neck. “Come and visit tomorrow.”

Jim’s skin turns bright red when Leonard cuts his eyes at the pair, both indecent and still necking like teenagers. “Why’d I bother?” he grumps, leaving the room.

 

\---

 

Spock’s red-rimmed eyes greet Leonard as he exits Jim’s room. “Hi, Spock. I—”

“You cannot leave me unexpectedly in the middle of Pon Farr,” snaps Spock, grabbing Leonard’s wrist and tugging him down the hall. “I awoke suddenly and panicked because my mate was too far for me to feel. I was jolted by the pain, Leonard.”

Leonard lets himself be pulled, his mouth agape, shrugging at the crew members who wonder if they should interfere or just ignore it all. Scotty is too wasted to know what’s good for him, and tries to push Spock back.

Spock growls at him, mouth wide and teeth seemingly ferocious. All the while, he keeps Leonard behind him, hidden from what he feels is a threat to their bond.

In as small and clear of a voice as he can, Leonard says, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. You’re more in danger right now to be honest.”

Scotty moves back slowly with his hands above his head as if he’s going to be arrested. When he’s far enough away, he runs out of sight, and Leonard feels Spock’s anger diminish. He turns to him, eyes wild but bright and focused. “I require your body,” he says.

What Leonard doesn’t understand about that is the fact that he means immediately. Meaning right in this hallway of rooms where their crew members are passing them by and chatting, minding their own business.

Spock presses him down against the floorboards, nothing but wood and dirt from shoes to soften the fall. His robe is pulled open and cast off somewhere towards where Scotty ran; Leonard thinks he sees young Chekhov catch it and give him a thumbs up before Sulu shuffles him further away to give them some semblance of privacy. Unfortunately, Carol and Uhura are coming back with trays of food, and they both squeak when they see Spock’s bare ass hovering over Leonard, already pushing inside of him with the slick of come and oil that’s leftover.

Three fingers touch Leonard’s head, and he trembles; suddenly stricken by how wonderful this feels for Spock. Connecting in front of everyone so they know who Leonard loves, who he belongs to and with. They kiss with fingers and tongues, both human and Vulcan ways, panting louder with each thrust. And Leonard’s sweat mingles in with the come and oil, and Spock bends over, impossibly nimble for someone so tall, licking at Leonard’s nipples, biting down when the reaction isn’t loud enough.

He slams into his prostrate when his teeth gnaw, forcing out cries and shouts and Leonard’s eyes are so tight he can’t remember where they are, and he hopes what he says isn’t aloud but it probably is because his throat cracks at the end of his ramble of lustful commands.

_Fuck me, man. Spock, do it harder. I can’t feel it enough. Harder, I need it. More. Please. I’m so close. I want you to come on me. Come for me._

And Spock is vibrating with lust or love, or a hybrid of them, tangling their fingers together against the wood panels as he fucks in hard slaps, his balls hitting Leonard’s perineum on each thrust; his cock slick between their abdomens, sliding and catching on Spock’s hipbone at just the moment Spock’s cockhead bumps up and down his prostate. They kiss through Leonard’s scream, and he bites Spock’s tongue too hard, which gets him another hard push in between his thighs; and it’s too sensitive now, that he’s spurting like a goddamn fountain. Part of it landing on Spock’s chin as he calms down.

Leonard’s throat is gone, but so is his spine. It’s somewhere inside of him, he knows on a medical level, but it can’t be found for the moment. Spock isn’t embarrassed in the least; he nods his head at Uhura and Carol who hadn’t left – trying to block the view from other crew members – but are clutching their trays with white grips and red faces.

Leonard is going to imagine they liked the show. He smiles as Spock lifts him with ease, wrapping him in the robe, and walking back to their hut – his ass showing as he goes.

 

*

 

Miraculously, Leonard wakes up without come on his eyelids or in his nostrils, but the rest of him hasn’t been spared. A small part of him wonders why Spock didn’t make sure he was awake before he rubbed his dick all over him, marking even his hair with semen, but the larger part is glad he could sleep through it.

In degrees, he awakes, and notices Spock’s body draped across his own, pinning him to the bed. He knows better than to leave now, but it seems like his Vulcan lover is afraid anyway. He nuzzles into Spock’s hair because he can, and because it isn’t slicked back and perfect right now: it’s a mess of jet black, spiky from tugging – he might have done it in his sleep – and soft against Leonard’s cheek. He kisses the top of his head. 

“Wakey-wakey, Spock,” he murmurs. Then, in his mind, _I’m ready to be taken again._  
  


Spock’s eyes snap open and he drags his hand down Leonard’s arm. “Are you certain? I was attempting to offer you rest.”

“I’m so turned on right now,” Leonard says, pushing his hips up against Spock’s pelvis; surprised to find he’s flaccid.

_I understand but your body has not recovered yet_ Spock thinks, brushing his knuckles against the side of Leonard’s face. “I do not intend to harm you.”

“So do me that favour we talked about,” he says, moving his hips up along the muscles of Spock’s stomach.

“Very well,” says Spock. His body bends gracefully as he slides down the bed, settling in between Leonard’s thighs. “What is your preference?”

Leonard raises a brow. _Shouldn’t you know?_

_I only read the thoughts you allow me to._

Leonard’s eyes shut slowly, his fingers digging into the blankets underneath his naked body. _Read them all._

Spock’s response is the liquid, warm suction of his mouth swallowing Leonard’s cock down.

From there, Leonard’s curling his toes against the blankets, wrapping one thigh around Spock’s shoulder, trying to get him closer, deeper. Needing to spend himself down his throat like it’s oxygen for his lungs. Spock is gentler now; his heat having subsided enough for him to focus, and enjoy the moment. There’s a lilting purr in his mind instead of words; it shimmers with red and rumbles, crawling down Leonard’s skin from the inside.

Leonard moans when Spock’s fingers find his, tangling them, kissing with two digits – Vulcan, emotional, intimate. Three words you’d not expect in the same sentence, but all the more surprising for it.

Leonard rubs his fingers back, offering a kiss as well as he can while Spock slides all the way down his shaft, gagging briefly and fluttering his throat. He slides off, but not all the way; he sucks at the head, tongue darting into the slit, collecting the beads of clear there.

Even with both their eyes closed, Leonard sees Spock’s smile; feels it against his cock, his hand, even where his knee is hanging over his back. He nudges him in closer, sending waves of appreciation Spock’s way since he can’t say them aloud.

_Please, Spock, please._

_You may ejaculate when you wish._

The scientific, robotic thought shouldn’t send Leonard over the edge, but it does. This is his life now: a fetish for Vulcan kisses and Spock’s deadpan voice humming softly through his mind. Spock moves his hands underneath Leonard’s hips, lifts them, and forces the length of him further down his throat.

Leonard chokes even as Spock doesn’t, his heel digging in Spock’s sweaty back, hips thrusting erratically as he spills with a banshee cry, all the way down his mate’s throat.

Spock’s eyes open slowly, his lashes fluttering and pupils dilated as he slides up Leonard’s body. They kiss with delicate presses, a lazy feeling singing in their nerves.

“I love you,” says Leonard, digging a hand in Spock’s hair to rub at his scalp.

“And I you,” Spock says, his hips moving in subtle circles.

_Is it back?_ thinks Leonard, too busy kissing Spock, sucking on his tongue, to pull his mouth away and say it aloud.

_Not fully,_ Spock thinks, between sending Leonard an image of them both in a bath, rubbing their wet bodies together. _But it is almost complete._

_Does that mean we won’t have sex for another 7 years?_

_I highly doubt you will allow that._

_You’re damn right._

Spock drags his open mouth, warm and wet, across Leonard’s cheek and kisses his ear. He says, “I am going to take you now.”

 

*

 

It’s two days later - when Leonard can’t even walk without Spock’s shoulder to lean on - that they make their way back to the building where everyone else is staying. The heat has diminished enough that Spock can keep it at bay by meditating for an hour; Leonard needs time to recover before they start another marathon.

They take the room they were originally intended to use, right across from Jim and Khan’s. They don’t use it much, though, because they spend all their time with the crew they’ve been neglecting instead.Leonard goes off to chat with Scotty and Sulu about what they’ve been up to. A lot of drinking, apparently.

Jim and Khan have been at it like rabbits too, but without the mindmeld to silence their moaning and begging and cries. Leonard winces at the description. Scotty is especially gifted with going into details.

Chekhov finds them in the dining hall, Spock trailing behind him. He takes a seat next to Leonard, rubbing their fingers together in a quiet kiss though, he doesn’t make eye contact. Doesn’t want attention drawn to their affection.

Uhura isn’t blind though. She once waited to have that, and knows how important of a gesture it is. “Aw, you guys are adorable.”

“What?” asks Leonard, snapping his gaze away from where he was touching Spock’s perfect, skilled long fingers.

“She is referring to our bond,” says Spock, using his other hand to take his bottle of water. _Can you?_

Leonard opens the bottle with his free hand, not stopping the movement under the table. 

Scotty groans. “I dunno what’s worse. The loud sex or this fluffy business.”

“I think it’s sweet,” says Uhura, tapping Scotty on the head. “Better than all the arguments.”

“Oh, we’ll still argue,” says Leonard, side-eyeing Spock. “We’re just too tired right now.”

“I am rested,” deadpans Spock, sipping his water then turning the cap back on.

“Thanks a lot,” grumbles Leonard. “Can’t even offer me any.”

“Guess you were right, doctor,” Sulu says, chuckling behind his fist.

 

*

 

It’s strange to go back to Eclipta after everything that’s happened, but it’s their job. The only reason Starfleet allowed them to abandon their exploration of the planet was because Spock’s life was in danger. But now that his heat has passed, they have to finish what they’ve started.

They’re all explorers – in their various fields. Besides, they still need to figure out if there are people on the planet and if they are friendly, neutral or hostile.

 

\---

 

Spock and Leonard make their way down the surface, collecting samples of plants and flowers. They bring suits in case anything turns out to be poisonous or harmful, but decide against wearing them right away; it’s hard to move in.

“Do you think the people here are nice?” asks Leonard, bending down on one knee. He slices off a leaf of a red plant. It shudders when he does it, and he winces.

Spock looks down at the plant. “It is living. Do not fear for your health. It is merely a response.”

“So what, you’re an expert of this undiscovered planet now?” snaps Leonard, slipping it into a reseal-able bag.

“I did not make such a statement,” says Spock, crossing his arms behind his back.

Leonard points a finger in his face. “Don’t you start with that condescending pose, Mister. I have your father’s number and I’m not afraid to contact him if I need to --”

“It is already done,” says Spock. He begins walking towards a line of green-trunked trees. Their leaves are orange. It’s absolutely beautiful, but not enough of a distraction for Leonard to let go of this topic.

Leonard stomps after him, his hands balled into fists. “Why did you contact him?”

“For him to arrange a ceremony with the elders,” says Spock, touching the trunk of a tree. He takes a pair of tweezers from his case and extracts a sliver of bark.

“You mean like—like--” _Marriage?_ Leonard finishes in his mind, touching Spock’s hand to send the message clearly.

_Precisely,_ thinks Spock, his lips curling up into a real smile.

Red floods both of their minds as Leonard rushes forward to kiss Spock, arms wrapped around his shoulders. _I love you, you sappy hobgoblin._

**Author's Note:**

> comments appreciated - if you have the time. :)


End file.
